All For All
by Triskaidephile
Summary: In the fight against He Who Must Not Be Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all. Apologies for the formatting, I'm having problems uploading this.
1. Bruises And A Beginning

All for All

Summary:

In the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all.

Chapter One – Bruises And A Beginning

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is definitely not mine. Anything you don't may possibly be original.

"The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself." – Mark Twain

In a small garden overshadowed by an ancient yew tree, a little girl of seven knelt on the dry grass. It was the middle of the afternoon, and boiling hot, but in front of her a small, black-and-white kitten crouched uncertainly. The girl slowly reached out a hand, and cautiously, the cat edged closer to sniff it. Sensing no danger, it allowed itself to be stroked gently. Cat and girl sat in mutual affection for a few minutes.

A sudden bang from inside the house jerked them out of their revere. All traces of comradeship disappeared as the kitten tensed, its hair standing on end. Loud voices and unpleasant laughter were heard, and then – a scream. The girl jumped up, her eyes wide. Unheeded, the cat fled into the shadows of the yew tree, and watched the girl run into the house's dark interior, her blonde plaits swinging to and fro as she pattered up the steps barefoot. As she entered the house, her eyes blinking furiously to return her vision, the sounds of struggling reached her ears. The noise was coming from the kitchen. She tip-toed to the door, opened it an inch and peered through the gap.

Figures in black were standing in the kitchen.

"Crucio." Desperate screams echoed through the room. The little girl put her hands over her ears, petrified, but she couldn't run – her body had frozen. The screams stopped. A voice that would send chills down the spine of any man was heard.

"Wormtail…open the door."

"Yes, my lord."

Before she could move, the door creaked open slowly and her hiding place was revealed.

A man lay on the floor, dead. A woman with beautiful blonde hair much like her daughters' was huddled in next to him, her dry sobs echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"What is your name?"

The voice spoke again and the girl looked up into the face it belonged to – white and snakelike, with red eyes that burned with malice, and _he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature's began: they were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape – _it seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil - _…and neither can live while the other survives… - _'Use it if you need me, alright?' – _'You are very kind, Harry, but your blood is worth more than mine.' – _'Avada Kedavra!' – '_Not Harry, please not Harry!' – _'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

Harry woke up.

He stared up at the ceiling of his room in number four, Privet Drive, and waited for his heart to slow down. After a moment he sat up, rubbing his eyes – they had already begun to adjust to the half-light – and looked at his alarm clock. Three o'clock in the morning. _Great. Just great. _He sighed in annoyance, not really wanting to go back to sleep and face more nightmares.

Harry had been at Privet Drive for just under two weeks now. The Dursleys, particularly Uncle Vernon, had not been at all pleased about their nephew's early arrival. Dudley was still away at school, Aunt Petunia avoided Harry as much as possible and Uncle Vernon was certainly never around, but the few words that had been exchanged had led Harry to suspect that things weren't going so well for the Dursleys – Uncle Vernon in particular. _Understatement of the century _Harry thought grimly. He winced, remembering the night before, when he had been woken from a vivid nightmareby his Uncle grabbing hold of his left arm, hard. _Lucky he didn't go for my neck, _he told himself. _I might've found that a bit harder to hide._ When he had visited Ron and the rest of the Weasleys at Grimmauld Place last week, he had been careful to make sure that the hand-shaped bruise was covered by his shirt sleeve. He wasn't sure what was stopping him from telling someone, but he felt it would be stupid to go running to the Weasleys – or even Hermione – about it when there really wasn't anything anyone could do to change the situation. He had to be at the Dursleys for another two weeks at least, and if anyone decided he should stay for longer he only had to wait for the end of July before he could do whatever he wanted. He imagined walking away from Privet Drive for the last time and smiled. _Finally._ Slowly he drifted off into daydream upon daydream.

When he next opened his eyes, the sun was just peeking in through his window, and he glanced at the clock. Six o'clock. He just had time to go downstairs and grab breakfast before his Aunt and Uncle got up. Then he could guarantee not having to see them for a few hours.

Harry had been avoiding his aunt and uncle a lot recently. It worked quite well; he made sure to get up early enough to have breakfast before them, he made his lunch early and ate it outside whenever he felt like it, and at dinner he'd eat as quickly as possible and leave the table as soon as he could. Other than meals, he rarely saw them anyway, so there was no problem there. He'd visited Grimmauld Place three times in the last two weeks, getting there via the floo at Mrs Figg's house, and not coming back until late evening. He was going there again today – and Hermione was going to be there too. She'd been spending the last two weeks with her parents, on holiday in Spain for some of the time, and she had written that she couldn't wait to see them all again. Harry wasn't sure if he felt the same. He might have been able to fool the Weasleys with a bit of luck, but Hermione would be more difficult. She would want to know everything about Harry's time with the Dursleys, and she would probably be the one person aside from Mrs Weasley to ask why he was wearing long sleeves in the middle of June.

Harry sighed, got up, and walked downstairs.

Ron paced nervously up and down in front of the fireplace. Hermione would be there any minute now –

The fire flashed green and a girl with long bushy hair stepped through into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

"Hello Ron," Hermione said. She smiled and Ron furiously tried to ignore the stupid things his stomach did when he saw her.

"Hi 'mione. Harry's getting here around midday today, so you've got an hour or so before he gets here, unless he's early, which he is sometimes…" Ron bit down on his lip to try to stop himself talking. Hermione seemed to be trying not to laugh as she spoke.

"Do you want to play chess?" Ron nodded, relieved to have something else to think about. As they walked out into the hall, he heard his mother bustling around a floor above. He paused and called up to her,

"Hermione's here, mum."

"Alright, dear. Call me if you need anything."

A few minutes later they were sat in the drawing room, either side of a chessboard. Hermione spoke.

"How's Harry?" Ron's bishop captured Hermione's pawn.

"Ok. At least, he's pretending to be," Ron said. Hermione had been scrutinizing the board, but at this she looked up.

"What do you mean?"

Ron ran a hand through his hair.

"I think the muggles are giving him a hard time again." Hermione bit her lip, worried.

"When did you say he was getting here?"

"Midday."

"So we can check up on him then, right?"

"I s'pose." Ron shrugged.

The game continued. Hermione surprised Ron with a carefully placed knight, but he was soon back on form.

"Checkmate." Ron grinned. It was nice to be able to beat Hermione at something, even if it was just a game. She, however, looked rather put out, as she always did on the few occasions that he actually out did her. He began to pack away the pieces.

"What's the time?" Hermione asked.

"Half-past eleven."

They walked through to the kitchen. They had just reached the fireplace when the flames flashed green. As the thin frame and messy black hair of his best friend began to materialize in the grate, Ron thought about how difficult this year would be. He had no idea how right he was.

So there's chapter one! I hope you like it! I've written one fanfiction before, not here, but I didn't plan it and I didn't (and still don't) know how to end it. I know Harry/Ginny-ness isn't there quite yet, but it will get there in the next two-three chapters.

Oh, and the familiar quotes that made up part of Harry's nightmares – from "he was locked in the coils…" to "Not Harry, please not Harry!" – are taken from the English Hardback/Paperback copies of Prisoner of Azkaban, Order of the Phoenix, and Half-Blood Prince.

Thank you for reviewing (Hint, hint).

Hazel.


	2. Seen and Unseen

All for All

Summary:

In the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all.

Chapter Two – Seen and Unseen

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is definitely not mine. Anything you don't may possibly be original.

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

"A mind troubled by doubt cannot focus on the course to victory." – Arthur Golden

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

_They walked through to the kitchen. They had just reached the fireplace when the flames flashed green. As the thin frame and messy black hair of his best friend began to materialize in the grate, Ron thought about how difficult this year would be. He had no idea how right he was._

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and into the underground kitchen of Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and was met by the sight of a nicely tanned Hermione and a Ron whom Harry was sure had grown another six inches since he last saw him. As he brushed the soot out of his hair Hermione came forward and hugged him. Over her shoulder and through a cloud of bushy hair, Harry could see Ron grinning. He grinned back as Hermione released him, looking at him critically as she spoke,

"Are you ok?"

Harry mentally re-checked what he looked like. His bruise was covered, he shouldn't be any paler than normal, and Mrs Weasley hadn't commented on him being thin for a week or two…so what had she spotted?

"Yeah, fine," he said, "why do you ask?"

"Oh…just checking." She gave him a bright smile and changed the subject. "I nearly beat Ron at chess earlier, you know!"

"No you didn't!" Ron argued. Harry let their argument wash over him. So she hadn't spotted anything…he was just getting paranoid…_not that there was anything to spot, anyway,_ he thought hurriedly. _I just don't want them to worry about me…She was probably only checking, after Dumbledore…died…she wasn't sure, so that's probably it._

But as he walked ahead of them to go up to the room he and Ron shared he heard an angry mutter from just behind him;

"_Oh well done!"_

"_Well it's not my fault. What would you've said?"_

"_I would've been more subtle!"_

"_You? Subtle? Oh please."_

"_Hey! Just because –"_

"Harry!" Mrs Weasley came up behind them, quickly ending the whispered fight.

"Hello Mrs Weasley."

"How are you?" She asked. _What is it with people today?_ Harry thought as he answered.

"I'm fine thank you."

"Good. Lunch will be late today, so I'll expect some help – " here she gave Ron a very pointed look " – at about half-past one."

The trio murmured their agreement, and trooped upstairs to Ron's room.

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

Harry sat on Ron's bed, grinning at the sight of his best friend in hysterics. Ron had doubled up in laughter because – well, Harry wasn't quite sure why. The original joke hadn't been that funny, and had been told a good fifteen minutes ago. It looked like he'd only just got it. _Typical Ron, _Harry thought. He and Hermione exchanged amused looks.

"So, Harry – Ron, will you shut up!" She sounded annoyed. Ron struggled to regain control, and coughed nervously.

"Sorry," he muttered. Hermione ignored him.

"Anyway. We've been talking for over an hour and a half and you still haven't told us how your summer has been, Harry." She smiled, but Harry was beginning to feel nervous again. He never kept secrets from them – at least, not ones that they wanted to know about. He still wasn't sure why he couldn't tell them now…

"Not too bad." He mentally cursed. That was about all he had to say; he tried to think of something that would stop Hermione asking more – but he was rescued by the bang of the front door and Mrs Blacks' screams of hate.

"_Filthy muggle-lovers befouling my noble house! Blood traitors and mudbloods and half-breeds…"_

Mrs Weasley's voice suddenly rose above the screams.

"Ginevra Weasley! How many times have I told you not to slam that door? And you were supposed to be back half an hour ago – DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME, YOUNG LADY!"

Hermione looked curiously at Ron. Harry turned to gaze out of the window. No way was he having this conversation.

"Ginny." Ron said, wincing. "She's been like this for ages." He did not seem to want to elaborate, so Hermione asked.

"What d'you mean?"

"Well…she's been a bit…" He gestured helplessly, and glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh…I dunno," he finished lamely; "it's probably just girl stuff. But she's always out and mum's getting really fed up." He shrugged.

"I thought she was visiting friends," Hermione said, "at least, that's what she told me."

"Yeah, some girl she shares a dorm with. Can't remember her name." He shrugged again. Harry couldn't help wondering, somewhat nervously, if it had anything to do with _him_. After all, he had been the one to break up with her – _No way_. He snapped away from that train of thought. Just how big-headed was he? Ginny was fine without him – better, even. In fact, she was probably thinking about someone else already. She'd probably forgotten all about him. _So why can't I forget her?_

"Ron! Could you come downstairs and help with lunch, please?" Mrs Weasley called, sounding rather flustered, and the trio got up and went downstairs. On their way out, Harry glanced towards Ginny's room at the end of the corridor. The door was shut firmly, and Harry knew even without looking that it would be locked from the inside. It had been for the last two weeks – at least when Ginny was here and not eating, which she seemed to be doing increasingly fast, not speaking to anyone except her mother, and then only if she absolutely had to.

Ten minutes later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were sat down in front of a pile of potatoes. Harry reached across the table for the knife. As he did so, the sleeve covering his left arm was tugged up. He felt a hand grab his wrist – Hermione.

"Harry, what's happened to your arm?" He snatched it back and pulled the sleeve down, re-covering the bruise.

"I – um, I trapped it in a door yesterday," he lied, hoping she hadn't seen its shape. Ron winced sympathetically, but Hermione looked more – concerned? Curious? Or…suspicious?

But she just bit her lip and nodded. _She doesn't believe me._ Harry picked up a potato and started to peel it, perhaps slightly more viciously than he normally would. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her watching his movements closely. He ignored her, and carried on peeling.

"Harry, mate…I'm sorry about us not being at Privet Drive with you." Ron said awkwardly, looking at him nervously. Harry shrugged and smiled at him.

"Don't worry about it."

But mentally he rolled his eyes and sighed. It had all sounded so planned, so simple on their last day of term, but the reality was far from it. As soon as Hermione's parents had found out she would be leaving Hogwarts early, they had insisted she come with them on holiday. Hermione had written a very apologetic letter to Harry from her house, saying how sorry she was and explaining that she had spent very little time with her parents recently and that she wanted to make it up to them before she left to help him look for the Horcruxes. He had written back immediately of course, telling her not to worry, that he understood. Really, he had been disappointed, crushed, especially when Ron told him that _he_ couldn't stay either. He had asked his Dad as soon as they had gotten home, but Mr Weasley had asked him to stay at Grimmauld – if only for Molly's sake, because with Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins hardly ever there, he didn't want her to be left alone in the house. Harry knew it was the right thing to do. Every time he had seen Mrs Weasley in his visits she had looked more and more weary – and he also knew that her shouting at Ginny's behaviour had more of a fearful tone to it than actual anger.

But knowing it was the right thing to do didn't make him feel any better about it. He would never admit this to his friends, because he knew it was selfish, but Harry was hurt that they couldn't be there. Privet Drive seemed lonelier than ever now, after he had expected to be spending the time with his two best friends.

_And what about Ginny?_ Asked a voice in the back of his head. But he brushed it aside, and focused on the job at hand, trying to forget about the prophecy, the Horcruxes, the Dursleys and Ginny at least for a little while. _I have too many things to worry about, _he thought.

Lunch was awkward. Harry had known that the Weasley brothers knew he and Ginny were no longer together, but he hadn't really seen them around enough to know their feelings on the matter. Now he did.

He'd noticed Ron's badly covered happiness with him and Ginny being together. It seemed that the others felt the same way. All the way through the meal (Sausages, mountains of mashed potato, and peas), he could see them glancing at him, and then at Ginny - who was sitting at the opposite end of the table not speaking to anyone, but stabbing at her sausages as though they had mortally offended her. He tried to ignore their blatant curiosity. If they wanted to know, they could ask Ginny. If Ginny wouldn't tell them, then he wouldn't either. He had no intention of sharing something Ginny didn't appear to want shared.

After lunch, he Ron and Hermione helped Mrs Weasley with the washing up before retreating back to Ron's room, despite all attempts on Mrs Weasley's part to get them to go out in the garden on 'such a sunny day'.

They spent most of the afternoon talking, arguing good-naturedly over Quidditch while Hermione rolled her eyes, and discussing possible Horcruxes and their locations. Hermione had quietly cast a silencing charm on the door when _that_ topic was breached; not that it was needed, with Mrs Weasley bustling around downstairs and Ginny's door firmly locked – but better safe than sorry, as Hermione had said afterwards. Harry agreed with her.

"And we need to work out what we're going to do about Hogwarts." She thought. Harry paused.

"What do you mean?" He asked guardedly. Surely she hadn't forgotten what she had said at the end of term?

"Oh, didn't you hear? It's re-opening. Don't think I'm reconsidering what I said," she continued, "but, Harry, we're going to have to have a really good alibi for not being there, or people are going to get suspicious." Harry nodded, annoyed that he hadn't already thought of that.

"I'll work on it."

"Well, we'll start doing some research right away," she said as she and Harry got ready to leave. "Ron, could you start looking in the library here?" Ron grimaced but nodded.

"What do you want me to start with?" He asked.

"Start by looking up as much information you can find on the four founders of Hogwarts," Hermione said. "If you're careful, you can make it look like part of your History of Magic work."

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"Oh come on, 'mione. You know I never end up doing homework till the end of the summer!"

"Say Hermione made you," suggested Harry lightly. Hermione tutted and sighed as Ron and Harry swapped grins behind her back.

Despite the jokes, they made their way downstairs feeling the heavy weight of responsibility upon them. Harry and Hermione said goodbye to Mrs Weasley and took the floo, one after the other, back to their respective homes.

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

As soon as the trio had gone, a long, thin piece of what looked like string that had been lying in the shadows by Ron's bedroom door moved. It was tugged quickly along the floor until it reached the supposedly locked door at the end of the corridor. Then the door was nudged open the smallest amount, through which not much was visible – save a curl of soft red hair and a pair of worried brown eyes.

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

After dinner that day, Harry was surprised to hear a knock on the door. He was even more surprised to hear Bill's voice greeting his Aunt, and came downstairs remarkably fast to find Bill Weasley in the living room – looking oddly serious.

"Hi Harry."

"Hi Bill – what's going on?" Harry asked.

"Just here to check up on things, to make sure your aunt and uncle know what's going on." He turned to them, smiling blandly. "I'm sure you remember what was said last year, on the platform. I wasn't there, but…I expect you know what we mean." Harry's Aunt and Uncle stared from Harry to Bill and back again as though they had grown antlers. Uncle Vernon looked furious.

"Harry has to stay until sometime next week. We haven't quite got the date yet, but when we do we'll contact Harry the normal way with the time and who's meeting him." He paused, picking up on the tension in the room, which was strong enough to knock out an elephant. "Anyway, I think that's all you need to know. We'll drop by to pick Harry up soon." Harry and the Dursleys accompanied him to the door.

"Oh, and Harry? Can I have a quick word outside?" Harry nodded and stepped out onto the porch. Bill pulled the front door almost shut, then turned to face him, his worry evident on his face.

"Harry, I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly." He stated.

"Ok…" Harry agreed nervously.

"Are you alright?"

Harry wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want to lie to Bill – for one thing, he was likely to see right through it – but he didn't want everyone worrying about him.

"Not bad," he mumbled eventually, staring at the floor. There was a pause. Bill bit his lip, wondering what to say, before sighing in regret. He could see what Ginny had meant but he really had no idea how to breach the topic with Harry. Feeling disappointed with himself, he decided he would try and talk to Harry the next time he came to Grimmauld. He nodded.

"Ok."

Harry could here the disappointment in Bill's voice, but kept himself from releasing all his feelings. _Sorry, Bill._

"See you at Grimmauld."

"Yeah. See you." Harry echoed miserably, before going back inside.

As soon as the door had closed behind Bill, Uncle Vernon strode over to Harry, who had started to move back upstairs.

"What have you been saying, boy?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, I'm supposed to just believe you am I?" He said sarcastically. Harry turned around, angry.

"Well what's the point in asking the question if you're not going to believe the answer?" His Uncle's hand lashed out and struck Harry across the face.

The scene froze for a split second. Aunt Petunia bit her bottom lip and glanced at the door nervously.

Harry's face had turned with the impact. He slowly righted himself, looking at the ground. His Uncle was watching him intensely with his piggy eyes.

"Do you think you're better than us?"

Harry reigned in all his emotions. He couldn't let them get a reaction.

"No, Uncle Vernon."

"Good. Now get to your room!"

Harry fought down all urges to run and walked steadily up the stairs. His hand on the banister was shaking slightly.

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

That evening, Harry lay back on his bed at Privet Drive and stared at the ceiling. A close observer would see that his eyes seemed glazed, unseeing almost. Harry James Potter was gazing into the past.

This aforementioned observer, had they been there, would have watched his face carefully, for it changed – from as closed and as shut off as a Gringott's vault door, to as open and readable as a book. From the face of someone who took things in, judged them and considered them before throwing them out – to the face of someone who had reached out for something with which to steady themselves, only to discover it wasn't there. From a ruthless, determined fighter – to an agonised, petrified teenager, frightened into a role he did not want to play.

And if the observer had watched closer still, after a while they would have been able to see him firmly pulling all of these emotions back inside himself, sealing them in and closing his face once more, before turning out the light and giving himself to sleep.

A close observer would have noticed all of these things. But there was no-one there.

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

Phew! So that's chapter two.

Now, I go on holiday on the 18th, so unfortunately I probably won't get chapter three written and up until two weeks after that, at least. Yes, alright, so that's a while. Apologies. I'm not the quickest of writers. But because I've been planning this story for a good few months now, I actually have quite a lot of snippets and odd scenes that I can add in as I go – and because they are already written, it theoretically should speed up my writing. Problem is, I've been dreading writing chapter three, because it keeps changing. ARGH!

Ok, sorry for the moan. I'll try and get chapter three up as soon as I get back.

Reviews are appreciated!

Hazel.


	3. Sunny World, Stormy World

All for All

Summary:

In the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all.

Chapter Three – Stormy World, Sunny World

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is definitely not mine. Anything you don't may possibly be original.

A/N: There are two very different quotes this time. I couldn't find a good singular one.

"I shall despair. There is no creature loves me;

And if I die no soul will pity me:

And wherefore should they, since that I myself

find in myself no pity to myself?"

- William Shakespeare.

"I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is; I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat." - Rebecca West

_Seven O'clock. Privet Drive._

Harry awoke with a jolt. The morning sun was streaming into his room, drawing strange patterns on the walls. Reluctantly, he pulled himself up and started to get dressed, and as he did, he noticed that the bruise on his arm was still far from healing. He carefully inspected it from all angles in the mirror. The vivid yellow-purple was still there, and worst of all – the shape of his Uncle's hand was still clearly visible. Harry sighed, and sat back down on his bed. He looked out of the window, and sought through his mind in vain to seek a way out of his present situation. Nothing came. He leant against the wall, and tried to think.

_Eight O'clock. Grimmauld Place._

Ginny sat alone on the windowsill of her bedroom at Grimmauld Place. It was a nice position to be in, provided she kept a firm grip on the edge of the sill – and a sharp ear out for her mother. She was mostly protected from the elements by the guttering a foot or so above her head, and her bare feet swung gently over the dizzying two-storey drop. She liked to sit here, in the early morning sun. She could think.

_Nine O'clock. Privet Drive._

Harry could hear his aunt and cousin moving about downstairs but did not join them, although his stomach rumbled for food. He wondered if they would notice that he had missed breakfast, but immediately dismissed the notion. None of the Dursleys would notice, let alone care. He turned over so that his back was to the door and tried to think of something else. Oddly enough, the first person to appear in his mind was Ginny. Her straight, Gryffindor-red-and-gold hair; her sharp, inquisitive eyes; the way she tossed her head when she was annoyed; the irritated frown that controlled her face when her brothers got too overprotective; the way he felt when they - he snapped away. She wasn't his girlfriend anymore, he couldn't be thinking like that.

_Ten O'clock. Grimmauld Place._

A slight breeze ruffled its fingers through Ginny's hair, and she tossed her head to keep it out of her eyes. Her wandering thoughts landed on the inevitable – Harry. She smiled sadly to herself, thinking of the way he would ask if she was busy when she was overloaded with school work, and the way that, when she told him – rather huffily – that yes, she was, he would look at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief and she would be able to go and forget about the worries of the world for an hour or so.

If only she could do that now.

_Eleven O'clock. Privet Drive._

Memories and thoughts were spinning around Harry's head. Dumbledore, begging for death. Sirius, giving Harry the package containing the mirror. The ghostly image of Sybil Trelawny speaking the words of the prophecy. Ginny's expression when he told her that they couldn't be together anymore. The younger Slughorn, telling Tom Riddle what a Horcrux was. So many images, whirling around and around in an endless cycle. So many images, that Harry's head was beginning to ache. He pushed himself off the bed, thinking of getting something to eat.

_Twelve O'clock. Grimmauld Place_

"And we need to work out what we're going to do about Hogwarts," Hermione had said,

"…we're going to have to have a really good alibi for not being there…" Not being there? Ginny had known that Harry had things to do, but she had never considered that he, or the others for that matter, would leave Hogwarts behind. She realized now how naïve she had been. If they were to make any kind of difference, they wouldn't be able to do so from within the increasingly watched walls of the castle. She mentally cursed. It would make things so much harder. She had known that they would never _tell_ her what they were doing, but she had hoped that being in the same castle for nine or ten months would allow her enough eavesdropping opportunities to work it out for herself. _And then what? _She asked herself. Confront them with the information, and hope they weren't too angry? Confront them with the information, and beg to be allowed to help? She snorted. _Pathetic. _But what, then? Her mother's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Ginny! Lunch!"

_One O'clock. Privet Drive._

Harry sat alone in his room, about to eat the cheese sandwich he had made for himself. Suddenly, a wave of restlessness swept over him. He needed to go somewhere, do something…

He grabbed a jacket, stepped into his trainers, walked downstairs and slammed the door behind him, leaving the sandwich untouched on the windowsill.

_Two O'clock. Grimmauld Place._

After lunch, and tidying the kitchen with her mother, Ginny went back to her windowsill perch, and tried to recall more of the conversation between Harry, Ron and Hermione that she had listened to yesterday.

_Three O'clock. Privet Drive._

Harry sweated under the mid-afternoon sun. _What am I doing?_

The sweat trickled across the back of his neck as he reached the top of the road. He stopped, and, gasping for breath, collapsed onto the bench. As the rapid beating of his blood began to slow, he watched the main-road traffic speed past him.

_Four O'clock. Grimmauld Place._

Horcruxes. Where had she heard that word before? Ginny wasn't sure. She watched a small bird fly across the square, and then back again, before she remembered. Of course!

Towards the end of her fifth year, she had been walking back up to her dormitory after finally giving up on a charms essay for the night. As she had crossed the practically empty common room, she had overheard part of Harry, Ron and Hermione's quiet discussion. Ron had been speaking, joking.

"Hey, I've got a better idea. Why don't we just walk up to him and ask. That'd be a fun meeting – hey, 'scuse us, d'you mind telling us where to find the rest of your Horcruxes, 'cos we're not really sure!" They had been speaking in whispers and murmurs, so Ron's sarcastic comment had seemed particularly loud. It had drawn a reluctant smirk from Harry, and Hermione had seemed torn between amusement and annoyance.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron – " but there Harry had quickly interrupted.

"Hi, Ginny."

Immediately, the other two looked around. They had changed the subject, but Ginny could still see Hermione's face watching her suspiciously. Eventually she had relaxed, apparently deciding that Ginny hadn't heard anything worth worrying about. Actually, Ginny had been listening in on their conversations for quite some time and had managed to glean that they were searching for something important of Voldemort's – but it didn't matter. She had always known that however much she got let in on, however closely she followed them, Ron, Harry and Hermione were a trio, not a quartet. They always would be, and Ginny would let them keep their secrets.

However, that didn't stop her listening in.

_Five O'clock. Privet Drive._

A woman walking a small terrier looked at him with barely disguised revulsion as she passed. Harry stared blandly at the passing cars, not caring.

_Six O'clock. Grimmauld Place._

Ginny toyed with the extendible ear in her hand. _Model two, _she reminded herself. She smiled. Fred and George really were getting good. With the shop bringing in plenty of money, the twins had moved away from the practical joke area and were looking more into what they liked to call 'defence and espionage'. Ginny remembered last week – she had been at the kitchen door, about to leave before an order meeting, when George had thrust the extendible ear into her hand and Fred had murmured in her ear, "Model two – don't show mum." She had been delighted to discover that 'model two' had twice the length and range of the original, and of course the best thing – it could penetrate silencing and imperturbable charms. For obvious reasons, they were not being sold to the public, but Ginny looked forward to when all this would be over and she could hopefully see whatever else the twins had been working on. She only hoped that Harry, Ron and Hermione would still be around to appreciate it.

_Seven O'clock. Privet Drive._

Harry watched the sun get lower and lower, and knew he should be heading back. He'd missed dinner already, but he knew that there was every chance he was being watched by the Order and probably wasn't supposed to be out after dark. Harry found that he didn't have the energy to care. He pulled himself off his seat and began to trudge slowly back to Number Four, being sure to take the longest route.

_Eight O'clock. Grimmauld Place._

Ginny looked up at the stars. When she was five, Bill had taught her some of the star names. Sirius, the Dog Star. Regulus. Bellatrix. Andromeda. The Bear star. She looked for them now. For a moment, she thought she saw a lightening bolt amongst the constellations, but when she blinked it had disappeared. She sank deeper and deeper into reverie, where she and Harry were closer than ever, she was one of the trio turned quartet, she helped them defeat Voldemort together…

_Nine O'clock. Privet Drive._

When Harry finally got back to Number Four, there was a note waiting for him on the kitchen table. He unfolded it. It was from his aunt, telling him in her neat biro writing that she was in Hertfordshire, visiting a friend, and that Dudley was staying over the Polkiss' house for the night. Neither of them would be back till tomorrow - he and his uncle would be the only people in the house tonight. Harry couldn't prevent a shiver of childish, long-forgotten fear flashing across his face. _Alone in the house with Uncle Vernon. _His aunt rarely allowed this to happen, and he could remember the last time vividly, as though it were yesterday.

His Uncle had – _NO. _Harry shook his head to clear it. This was ridiculous. He was seventeen now (well, nearly) and easily as tall as his uncle. There was nothing to worry about. _And if there ever was, _he thought, _I don't remember it._ He swallowed hard and pushed the thoughts back to the deep well of 'forgotten' memories in the back of his mind.

Harry opened the fridge door and tried to decide on something to eat, but his appetite had gone. He sighed in annoyance and sat down at the kitchen table, allowing apathy to overwhelm him.

_Ten O'clock. Grimmauld Place._

Suddenly, something inside Ginny snapped. What was she doing? Ron, Hermione and Harry were going to be out there risking their lives and she was holed up in her room like…like some stupid princess in a bloody tower! Harry had _told _her to stay out of danger, to her _face _and she had _listened_ to him! Why? The answer came immediately.

_Because I trust him._ Well he would just have to learn to trust her as much.

Harry lived in a stormy, dangerous world, one where thunder rolled and lightening struck, one where anyone could be hit at any moment – whilst she sat in her sunny tower room, protected from all sides by the strangest shield, one that let only the good things and the sunlight through. _Not anymore, _she decided. She had had her holiday now. Harry lived in a stormy world…and she would join him. Whether he liked it or not.

Ginny stared out into the starry night one last time, then came inside, closed the window, and began to plan.

_Eleven O'clock. Privet Drive._

Harry knew he was coming before he heard the door. The familiar sound of tyres on Number Four's drive, the engine dieing quickly and efficiently, the _stamp, stamp, stamp _of his uncle's feet – but something deep in his mind registered that there was something wrong with the sounds. The tyres had sounded faster, the engine more abruptly cut off, the _stamp stamp stamp _just a little too irregular. It wasn't until the door was slammed with ferocious force that Harry realised. His uncle was drunk. Harry froze in his seat, an old, far-too-familiar terror gripping him, previously suppressed memories flashing through his mind. Four years old, being made to get inside his cupboard for the first time. Seven years old, being punished at for getting better grades than Dudley, and nursing the bruises for a week afterwards. Nine years old, giving the Headmistress's letter to his Uncle because his aunt and cousin were out, and they were alone in the house together. Later that night, in his cupboard, shaking and crying but holding his pillow over his face so his uncle wouldn't hear and hurt him more…

And then the kitchen door swung open. The man himself stood in the doorway, blinking at the lights.

"_You._" He snarled. Harry tried to move but his fear held him in place.

"You stupid, ungrateful little freak!" his Uncle spat, and swung at him. He dodged – just in time. His uncle's ham of a fist barely missed him. As it was, he stumbled, knocking over the chair he had been sitting in and grabbing the countertop for support before pushing himself upright again. He glanced at the door to the hall. He knew from experience that if he made it to the stairs, his Uncle would not chase him, but this wasn't very helpful. Uncle Vernon was between him and his only escape route. He may have been sixteen, and he may have been almost as tall as his uncle – but in his mind Harry was nine years old again, shaking with fear and repressed terror at the shear size and strength of the man coming towards him, not even considering fight or flight as possible. Because as a nine-year-old, Harry knew that Vernon Dursley was an unstoppable force.

_Twelve O'clock. London._

The inhabitants of Twelve, Grimmauld Place slept on, unaware of what was happening a hundred miles away in Surrey. Amongst them, the only one in a room of her own, was a slight, red-haired girl, sitting at her desk yet fast asleep with her head resting on the tabletop.

_One O'clock. Surrey._

It was raining in Little Whinging. A single figure walked slowly along the pavement.

His black hair was plastered to his head, his green eyes gazing into painful nothingness as he took step after agonizing step. The paleness of his thin face contrasted starkly with the vivid bruises along his temple, eye and cheekbone. Harry stopped in front of Mrs Figg's bungalow – his destination – walked to the door and pushed the bell with a shaking, ice-cold finger. He waited. There was no answer. He pressed the button again; still no response. Then he saw the note attached to the door, encased in a transparent plastic folder to protect it from the weather. Harry read it, squinting through the rain.

_Milkman – no deliveries here until the 15th. Thank You. _She wasn't here.

Harry was angry. What had happened to him? He was almost seventeen, nearly of age, he could look after himself! And yet, here he was, hovering outside some dingy old bungalow that constantly smelt of cats and old cabbage, looking for _help._ How pathetic! He spun around, as if to walk away, but the pain shot up his left leg and he stumbled, his anger evaporating into despair. He leaned against the bungalow door and slowly sank down, sitting on the doorstep. Shock, despair, lack of food and pure exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he passed out gently into darkness.

Chapter three, everybody! Sorry it took me so long, but my only excuse is that it's harder than you'd think to write about rainy Surrey when you're in sunny Majorca!

I also must apologise in advance, because as I start back at school tomorrow, my writing may have to take second place to my coursework. I don't want it that way, but I've got a feeling that I may end up having no choice.

So I will try to update my author page with how I'm doing with chapter four, but it may take a while to get the actual chapter up.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter – all reviews will be replied to as soon as possible, so please, feel free…

Hazel


	4. On a Personal Level

All for All

Summary:

In the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all.

Chapter Four – On a Personal Level

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is definitely not mine. Anything you don't may possibly be original.

"Family isn't about whose blood you have. It's about who you care about." - Trey Parker and Matt Stone

It was three o'clock in the morning as Arabella Figg stood wearily in the middle of the bustling airport. She had been travelling most of the night – returning from an overseas, undercover mission for the order. Unfortunately, she had had to travel the muggle way for security, exhausting though it was and so she was delighted to see a familiar red-head waiting to meet her by the doors.

"Bill! How lovely to see you!"

Bill Weasley grinned and strode over.

"Arabella."

He took one of her bags and they walked outside, towards the apparation spot. She gripped his arm tightly and they were whisked away, landing neatly on the tiled floor of her kitchen. She sighed. _Home._

"Cup of tea?" she offered.

Bill shook his head reluctantly. "Sorry Arabella – I really should get back," he apologised. She nodded.

"Wait a moment while I hang my coat up, and I'll see you off." She went out into the hall and Bill waited, letting his gaze wander curiously. Mrs Figg's home was almost purely muggle – what his father wouldn't do for the chance to visit. Bill smiled at the thought. Now, that _would _be funny to see…

His thoughts were interrupted by a gasp of shock from the hall.

"Bill!"

He ran into the hall and saw Mrs Figg at the front door. Joining her he realised what had made her call. Pale and shivering and huddled up in a feeble attempt to shelter from the cold rain was –

"_Harry…_" Bill whispered, but shook himself.

"We need to get him inside."

Charlie Weasley woke up with a start to a quiet knocking on the door.

"Charlie!" Bill's voice was a hoarse whisper. "_Charlie!_" He pushed himself out of bed quickly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Come in," he called back quietly. Bill entered, not bothering to shut the door behind him, and speaking almost at once.

"Put something on, quickly. I need your help."

His older brother's tone was anxious and impatient, moving Charlie into obeying automatically. He opened his wardrobe, reaching for jeans and a t-shirt.

A minute or so later Charlie arrived downstairs, fully clothed and awake. He was surprised to see his mother and father, looking slightly flustered at the early hour, alongside Tonks and Remus Lupin, waiting for him. Bill was standing by the fireplace, tapping his foot worriedly, but stopped when Charlie entered.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked, his eyes flicking across their faces, searching for an answer.

"It'll take too long to explain," his brother replied tersely. "We need to get moving now. Got your healing stuff?" Charlie nodded, worried. When he had become a member of the Order, he had started a healing course on top of his other duties. He wasn't an expert, but he knew enough to make himself useful – and that was something. As he followed Tonks and his brother into the floo network the way he had done for the Order of the Phoenix so many times before, he saw his mother grasp his father's hand, seeking reassurance. He only wished someone could give it.

They had arrived back at Grimmauld place at around four o'clock that morning. Charlie and Tonks had gone straight to their rooms after helping Bill get Harry to his, but Bill had remained in the kitchen as the dawn grew clearer. He wondered the details of what had happened, but knew it was unlikely that he'd get much from Harry. He'd turned much more secretive this summer, and with him, Ron and Hermione – it was with them he would have to leave the task of persuading Harry to open up.

But at least Harry would be alright for now. When he had reached Mrs Figg's house, Charlie had gone straight to Harry's side…

"Hold him upright, Bill." Charlie said. Bill did so as Charlie raised his left hand and felt Harry's forehead, before taking his pulse and checking his breathing.

"Well?"

"Moderate hypothermia. Commonly the result of being exposed to cold and wet conditions for an extended amount of time." Bill looked sideways at him. His younger brother looked pale and nervous, and his voice was odd, as though he were reciting from memory.

Charlie took a deep breath. _Ok, I can do this. _

"We need a towel or something," he said over his shoulder, and heard Mrs Figg hurry to oblige. He placed the tip of his wand on Harry's chest. A warm light radiated out of it for a second, and then the spell was absorbed. Charlie gave a sigh of relief as he felt Harry's pulse slowly return to a normal rate and a little colour return to Harry's face. He pocketed his wand, and stood up.

"Come on; let's get him back to Headquarters."

As people began to stir upstairs, Bill got to his feet and started to make something for breakfast.

Harry sat in one of the many drawing rooms at Grimmauld Place, gazing absent-mindedly at his transfiguration text book. It had been several days since his departure from Number Four and the effects had nearly worn off – he had been so exhausted that he had slept through half the day, and when he woke up, his left wrist and the left side of his face had been sore and aching; they still were.

He hadn't explained much of what had happened to Bill and Charlie, despite all of their concerned curiosity, but Hermione and Ron deserved the full story. He had found it hard to talk about at first, but eventually it had all spilled out. They had been angry with him for not telling them, and _furious_ with the way his Uncle had treated him. Harry hadn't dared explain some of the things that had happened when he was younger; he couldn't bring himself to make Hermione shout any louder. _If that was actually possible…_

Harry sighed. He didn't like keeping secrets from them, but what was he supposed to do? Pour out a 'tragic' childhood like the star-struck attention-seeker he reputably was? _Fat chance. In fact, _Dudley_-sized chance, hah. _Anyway, what could they do to change it? Not a thing. So there was no point in telling them. Right.

Although it was harder now. Old images and vivid memories flickered back to life as though he had unlocked a door in his mind. He could still hear his uncle's drunken shouts and curses echoing, could still see the beast of a man coming at him, distorted into a raging monster by the half-light of the kitchen…

Dinner was rather awkward, as it had been for the past few days – with Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione all remarkably silent, each for their own reasons, the mood at the table was stiff and the normally extensive conversations quick to fall into the silence. But it passed quickly enough and everyone trouped towards the sitting room – except Ginny. She slipped out, into the hall and up the stairs before her mother could call her back. Reaching her room, she opened the window and sat on the sill, her heels tapping the outside wall of the house with every swing of her legs. It was a clear night – a full moon. Ginny felt a flash of empathy for Remus, who had gone away to stay at some hostel or something, a place for werewolves to transform without harming others. Slowly, she drifted into reverie, but a soft knock on the door pulled her back to reality. She looked around.

"Who is it?"

"It's me." _Harry_. _Oh, Merlin._ She paused, but could not think up an excuse. Maybe it was time to talk.

"Come in."

He came in slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkened room. She watched him shut the door, before moving along the windowsill so that there was space for two. He joined her. They sat in silence for several minutes, letting the cool summer air wash over them. Harry was the first to speak.

"What's wrong?"

Ginny sighed.

"It's not you." _Ok, that's a big fat lie. _"Alright, it is." Harry looked bewildered, and for a moment Ginny felt an irrational urge to burst out laughing. He was so cute when he was confused.

"I just…that day, when you told me we couldn't be…" she searched for the right word; 'together' seemed to insinuate far more permanence than she wanted to admit to thinking about – at least for the moment.

"Together." Harry spoke quietly, as if reading her thoughts. She swallowed and nodded, taking care not to look at him. She knew that if she did, she would forget what she wanted to say, and this was too important to be left unmentioned.

"Well, you said what you said, and I wanted you to be happy – I thought it was the right thing to do. Then I realized – what about me? I just –" she faltered, losing her thread, but rallied again.

"I realized that letting you go off and save the world, letting you leave me behind like some pathetic, soppy fairytale princess in her tower, was the wrong thing to do. Because I'm not a princess. Because this isn't a fairytale. And because – because –" she took a deep breath. _This is it._ "Because I really like you, Harry. And it's not some silly eleven-year-old crush any more. It's real." She faltered, not quite knowing what to say next, or even if she should say anything at all. Beside her, Harry found that his mouth had gone so dry he could barely speak. Thoughts suddenly spiralled into the forefront of his mind – possibilities, plans, _futures_. If she meant what she said...maybe things didn't have to be this way, maybe he didn't have to be lonely…

But before he could say any of this out loud, Ginny swung herself back inside the room, looking away.

"But if you don't feel the same way, it – it doesn't matter. Just don't go off and laugh about it with whoever." She spoke quickly, not wanting to be stopped, feeling as though her world was dangling by a thread about to break. She was going to cry, she knew it. The best thing she could do would be to get away. Next to her, Harry put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry –" he started.

"Forget it."

"No! I meant - I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression." Ginny's world, about to be shattered forever, paused.

"What do you mean?" She looked around.

He coughed, went red, and said, nervously,

"I – I really like you too, Gin."

"Do you mean it?" She hardly dared to breathe.

"Yes." She could hear the strength in his voice; he looked at her and their eyes met, brown on green. "Yes. I was wrong to push you off like that. It was stupid. I'm sorry…" His voice faded away. Harry swallowed, and continued, "…I shouldn't have done that to you." He was aware that he was repeating himself and stopped. He realised that Ginny was biting her lip, trying not to laugh, and began to smile reluctantly.

"It's ok, Harry. Just …oh, never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What nothing?"

She looked at him sharply, and saw he was teasing her. She started to giggle. He laughed too – and she knew that she had made the right decision.

It seemed to have gotten late more quickly than normally possible. They had talked and talked; Harry had told her everything – the whole story of the Horcruxes and Voldemort, and his quest. The hardest thing to hear had been the prophecy. Ginny watched Harry's expression as he reached for words to express it.

"What is it?"

"I'm scared, Ginny," he whispered, suddenly seeming much younger. "Everyone thinks that I…they believe that it's going to be sorted out. No-one says it, but I can see it in their faces. Even Hermione and Ron…but what if I can't? What happens if I can't do what they expect me to?"

"I don't understand."

"There was a prophecy made just before I was born."

"What did it say?" Ginny licked her dry lips, terrified of the answer. _Don't tell me, I don't want to know…_

"I…I don't remember." _Liar._

"Please, Harry. _Please._" _Please don't…_

"The…" he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes as he repeated the words that haunted his dreams.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord is coming. Born to those who have thrice defied him; born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

Silence.

"It's you." There was no question in Ginny's voice – it was a blank statement, almost emotionless. Harry replied, his voice cracking slightly on the singular word.

"Yes." The air seemed thick, heavy, unbearable.

"Oh, Harry." He looked around, startled by the tone of her voice. "Harry…" and he stared in confusion as she smiled softly at him. Didn't she understand? This was it. This was his life, his destiny. Murderer or murdered. Predator or prey. Kill or be killed.

"I know what you're thinking. But it doesn't change anything, Harry. Forget it." Harry couldn't help it; he gazed at her, stunned by her attitude.

"I mean it, Harry. Trust me."

There was only one answer to give. He gave it.

"I do."

Aww.

This isn't my best chapter, me thinks, but…FINALLY some H/Gness!!!!! Whoot!

Don't forget, I answer every review!

Hazel.


	5. A Cloud Behind The Sun

All for All

Summary:

In the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all.

Chapter Five – A Cloud behind the Sun

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is definitely not mine. Anything you don't may possibly be original.

"The last safe place is safe no more." - Lemony Snicket, a Series of Unfortunate Events.

A week or so passed.

They visited Diagon Alley as a group, all of them cloaked, hooded, and the youngest – Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione – supervised at all times; the necessities for the next school year were bought, as well as several carefully planned purchases, secreted in the bottom of various bags. Ginny's birthday was early August, and Harry had been determined to get her something that she would like. Luckily, he had seen the perfect thing in the corner of Madam Malkin's – a cobwebbed black scarf with the different colours of the rainbow woven into it. He had wrapped it up, and it now sat in the bottom of his trunk, next to his new school books.

After much discussion, he, Ron and Hermione had decided that it would be safest to attend Hogwarts – there simply was no way they could excuse not being there. Ginny was going, so Ron couldn't claim that his parents wanted him to stay at home; most of their housemates knew Harry hated living with his relatives, and as for Hermione, well, no-one could imagine Hermione Granger skipping her studies, no matter what the situation. Ginny had pointed this out, much to Ron and Harry's amusement. Also, it would be easier for them to get in and out – even with the extra precautions, Hogwarts couldn't compare to Grimmauld Place.

Ginny joined them most of the time now. It had been just Ron, Harry and Hermione for so long that it was hard to come up with anything new; but Ginny brought a fresh perspective on every discussion. Now, Harry found it hard to believe that they'd ever shut her out before. Bill and Fleur's wedding had passed quickly, in a blur of lights and music. He remembered dancing with Ginny, her red hair coming loose from its pretty bun and her face glowing in the candlelight…

"Checkmate."

Harry looked back down at the chessboard with a start. Ron and he had started playing about an hour ago; Ron seemed to be taking so long to make his move that Harry had gotten lost in thought. Now his best friend was grinning happily at the board, and at the complex arrangement of white pieces surrounding Harry's black ones.

"Ok." They were just starting to pack away the pieces when Hermione stuck her head around the door and whispered,

"The meeting's finished." Harry and Ron quickly put down the pieces they were holding and followed her out to the landing, where Ginny was dangling four extendable ears down the stairwell. She looked annoyed.

"Hurry up! They're almost gone!" The other three grabbed an ear each and leant down carefully to see what they could make out, which turned out to be the closing of the front door.

"Damn it, they're getting quicker every time." Ginny spoke quietly, and Harry nodded in agreement. The four of them hadn't been able to listen to the meetings themselves since Mrs Weasley had taken to regularly using a different imperturbable charm on the door – one that even Fred and George's 'Model Two' could not penetrate - but sometimes the Order members would still be talking about the meeting as they came out. Lately this had happened less and less, and Harry was beginning to wonder if they knew that they were being listened to. He pulled up the extendable ear and carefully rolled it back up as the others did the same. They looked at each other and Hermione sighed.

"This is ridiculous. It's not working." Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, "Genius." Harry nudged him. He and Hermione didn't need to fall out now. Again.

"Let's go downstairs." Ginny suggested, "Mum'll have dinner ready soon." Ron nodded and they began to make their way downstairs. As they reached the kitchen door, someone spoke.

"Oh, Mr Potter – could I have a word?" Harry turned around, and saw Professor McGonagall looking at him.

"Of course, Professor." He kept his voice and face neutral, wary. He knew that she – and every other Order member, probably – was still curious about what he had learnt from Professor Dumbledore. She however, smiled wryly and walked away from him into the sitting room. Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged.

"See you in a bit, then." Ron said, and Harry followed McGonagall's lead. The room was empty except for Professor McGonagall, Harry and, for some reason, Charlie Weasley, who was watching the other two carefully. Professor McGonagall began at once.

"As you may or may not know, Mr Potter, I have been placed in the position of new Headmistress at Hogwarts." Harry nodded. Her promotion had been in the Daily Prophet the day before. "It has therefore fallen to me to arrange the staff for the approaching school year. I have found a suitable candidate for each empty position but feel that there is one Professor who need not remain at the school, particularly since the subject she teaches is not obligatory." Harry realised she was talking about Trelawney; he knew she had never particularly liked the over-dramatic Divination Professor, and no doubt had always wondered why Professor Dumbledore allowed her to remain in her position. "I understand that Professor Dumbledore had a reason to keep Professor Trelawney at the school. I wish to know if you are aware of what this reason might be, and if it still stands." She was watching him carefully, and Harry realised that she was unsure of what his answer would be. He thought it through for a moment and decided to answer her question as honestly as possible without breaking his promise to Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor Trelawney was the one who made the prophecy about me and Voldemort." He spoke quietly and kept his eyes on Professor McGonagall, but in the corner of his eye he saw Charlie sit up and start paying even closer attention. Professor McGonagall returned his gaze and for a moment said nothing – but then she seemed to visibly crumple.

"Very well. Thank you, Mr Potter." She reached inside her bag and brought out a small, wooden box, about a hand span across and several inches deep.

"Professor Dumbledore left this to you, Mr Potter." She smiled thinly at his puzzled face and handed him the box. "I think you will find it contains more than it appears to." With this, she swept gracefully out of the room. Charlie remained where he was.

"You all right, Harry?" he asked cautiously. Harry pulled his eyes from the box and glanced up.

"I'm fine."

He didn't get a chance to look at it until much later, when he was back in the room he and Ron shared. It had appeared quite simple when he had first been given it, but now that he could look closer we could see that it had been delicately carved with a swirl of fine lines across all sides. The wood itself was dark, almost auburn, and there did not appear to be any way to open it. Harry turned it over carefully and ran his fingers along its surface. There were no hinges that he could see, nor was there a catch or keyhole. However, turning it back the right way up he saw that the fine lines had changed to show a thin red line in the shape of a lightning bolt. He ran one finger gently along the shape and heard a quiet click as the top split down the middle and opened upwards, revealing the contents. The inside of the box had the same finely carved lines running through it, but the base of it was plain, with the initials _A.P.W.B.D _etched in a swooping script. As Harry watched, the initials changed to _H.J.P._

There was a letter lying on top of a velvet bag, with _Harry _written on the front. He took it out and began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_I believe I can safely assume that if you are reading this, I am dead. I will not presume to make assumptions surrounding the current situation, only that Mr Weasley, Miss Granger and yourself will no doubt be setting out soon. I therefore include several items which may be of use to you._

_The first item is my pensieve, along with those memories that you and I have already discussed. The second – or rather, the second, third, fourth and fifth are – four portkeys which will take you to the headmaster, or possibly now headmistress's office, Hogwarts._

_You may well ask why there is four of each item – but I suspect that your trio may well become a quartet soon. The other items are fairly self-explanatory; however I will make a note on the box itself. You are the only person who can open it and find the things that were put there for you. If, for example, Miss Granger were to try, she would find it empty unless she had previously placed something inside it. It is completely secure, and on that you have my word._

_I have one final piece of advice. There may come a time when you will be required to trust whom you would loath to. I understand your feelings on this matter but urge you to realise that this is neither the time nor the place for personal vendettas. Learn to focus your anger on the one who began it all and him alone._

_Good luck. I hope not to see you for a very long time._

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Harry grinned to himself. '_I hope not to see you…'_ that had to be the most backwards compliment he'd ever heard. He was about to look at the other contents when Ron, Hermione and Ginny came in. Both Ron and Hermione looked remarkably red in the face, as though they had been arguing, but Ginny appeared quite pleased about it – Harry wondered if she had started it. He'd noticed that Ginny often would deliberately comment on something in a way that would irritate the two of them, but had not yet worked out why.

"Hi Harry!" Ginny said perkily, sitting down next to him. She had her hair up in two pigtails which bounced as she moved. As she turned, one of them brushed against his shoulder and he hoped he wouldn't go red. Ron and Hermione seemed to have forgotten their argument – Hermione was looking curiously at the box in Harry's hands.

"What are you doing, Harry?"

"Yeah, we were talking downstairs and we realised you weren't there." This was Ron, grinning sheepishly.

"Actually," Hermione started, "I think you'll find it was _me_ who noticed he was gone –"

Ron turned to argue back but Ginny's expression stopped him.

"Go on, Harry."

"Professor Dumbledore left this for me."

Hermione and Ginny glanced at each other.

"What's in it?" asked Ron. Harry passed him the letter before taking out the red velvet bag and reaching carefully inside it. He found a round object that the touch of seemed to numb his fingers, and pulled it out. It was a miniature pensieve about the size of his fist, and as he held it on his palm it enlarged slowly back to the size he had seen it as in Dumbledore's office. He put it carefully on his bedside table and turned back to the box. Ron had passed the letter to Hermione, who was reading it with her brow furrowed in concentration. Underneath where the pensieve had been was a small parchment envelope bearing the word _"Passes" _in familiar swirling script. He began to open it as Hermione passed the letter to Ginny and lent over his shoulder to see. Inside were several small squares of what looked like coloured parchment tied neatly together with string, which Harry untied. The first square was white, and then there were three gold's, two silver's and one bronze. He looked at one of the gold cards. On one side were the words 'Ministry of Magic Gold Pass' in deep purple ink, and the other gave Hermione's name, birth date and the outline of a blank square. He flicked through the others – the white one bore his name, and the other two gold Ron and Ginny's. The last three were unnamed. He showed them to the other three.

"Ministry of Magic passes? What good's that?" Ron asked. "It's not like we're going to be in and out all the time." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I don't think that's the point."

They went back to the box. The only thing left was a slightly flattened roll of parchment, which Harry took out. It turned out to be four rolls, one inside the other, and on taking them out Harry realised why. He passed Ron, Hermione and Ginny their respective rolls, and opened his own.

_Dear Harry,_

_I expect you are wondering what I could possibly have to tell you in a second letter. I shall be concise. At the time of writing, there is one piece of information I have yet to disclose to you, and it is on the destroying of an actual Horcrux. To explain this, I will give you into the capable hands of the author of the book 'Destruction of Destruction', which can be found in the back of the Black family library. No doubt Miss Granger will find it fascinating._

_The only thing I ask is that you do not pry into what your friends have received – that which I wrote to them is their own choice to reveal._

_Keep your friends close, Harry._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore._

Harry looked up at his friends. Hermione looked deeply intrigued, Ron sceptical, and Ginny was smiling to herself. He wondered what they had been told, but knew that Dumbledore would have had a good reason for him not to ask. '_Keep your friends close, Harry.' _He knew he would – the Dursley's had never been a family to him, but they had. He smiled. He didn't need his Aunt and Uncle anymore. Perhaps he never really had.

A day or two later, on the morning of Harry's birthday, the Weasley's and Hermione got up a little earlier than usual. They came quietly downstairs in ones and twos, adding a present to the little pile on the kitchen table. The last one in was Ron, yawning and nodding to say that Harry was still asleep. A few quiet minutes later, they heard footsteps on the floor above, but jumped when the owl tapped loudly on the kitchen window. Charlie quickly let it in, and the owl deposited a copy of the Daily Prophet into his hands. He looked in horror at the blazing headline:

_MASS MURDER IN SURREY._

Charlie turned, shocked, to see a white-faced Harry standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and aching with lack of sleep. For a moment no one said anything. Then Harry spoke.

"They're all dead."

Ta-da. You can tell I like cliff-hangers, can't you? What makes me laugh is that I actually wrote the climax of the final battle scene for this fic over a year ago – lol, and there was me thinking, "Oh, it won't take long to get there." Anyway, at least this chapter is up. Chapter six won't be more than a few days – it's finished, but I need to get it back from my betas. Remember, I always answer reviews, normally within a few days.

Oh, and by the way, the scarf Harry bought for Ginny is strangely similar to mine, which I found at a charity craft stall – inspiration comes from the weirdest places!

Thank you for reading! – Hazel.


	6. Loss and Discovery

All for All

Summary:

In the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all.

Chapter Six – Loss and Discovery

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is definitely not mine. Anything you don't may possibly be original.

"Fall seven times, stand up eight." - Japanese Proverb

_A day or two later, on the morning of Harry's birthday, the Weasley's and Hermione got up a little earlier than usual. They came quietly downstairs in ones and twos, adding a present to the little pile on the kitchen table. The last one in was Ron, yawning and nodding to say that Harry was still asleep. A few quiet minutes later, they heard footsteps on the floor above, but jumped when the owl tapped loudly on the kitchen window. Charlie quickly let it in, and the owl deposited a copy of the Daily Prophet into his hands. He looked in horror at the blazing headline:_

MASS MURDER IN SURREY

_Charlie turned, shocked, to see a white-faced Harry standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and aching with lack of sleep. For a moment no one said anything. Then Harry spoke._

"_They're all dead."_

"They're all dead."

The room was completely silent. Everyone was watching Harry, who was still in his pyjamas. Charlie pushed the word out as hard as possible, but somehow it still came out as a whisper.

"Who?"

"The Dursleys."

His voice was dull and bland, as though he didn't care, but Ron could see that the emotion behind his best friend's eyes was fighting to get out. Harry gave a small, humourless smile.

"Just thought you should know." He looked over to the headline of the newspaper that Charlie still held in his hand. "I guess I didn't have to bother." He looked lost; he was trying to sound in control, indifferent, but it was clear that he could break down at any moment.

"You saw it." Ginny realised. Harry met her eyes briefly before looking away again.

"Every second of it." His eyes were focused firmly on the floor.

"What are you going to do?" Ginny asked, not knowing what else to say. Harry gave another humourless smile.

"Try and get some sleep. Try not to go insane." He turned and left, and they could hear each of his footsteps echo softly up the wooden stairs. Ginny took a step towards the door as though to follow him, but stopped when Ron looked at her and shook his head. He glanced at Hermione, who had her hand over her mouth in shock, and waited for her to pull herself together. She did, slowly.

"We shouldn't leave him alone." Ginny spoke softly. Hermione and Ron nodded.

When they pushed open the door, Harry was curled up on the bed facing away from them. Ginny came to perch on the bottom of the bed, Ron sat on his and Hermione leant against the windowsill.

"We know you're awake, Harry." There was a pause, and Harry rolled over to look at them, stretching.

"Unfortunately." Now she was closer, Ginny could see that his eyes were wide in that unnatural, sleepless way, and darkly circled. The pale hands that rested against the headboard of the bed as he sat up were bruised and cut along the knuckles.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, her eyes also drawn to her best friend's hands. He shrugged.

"When I woke up they were like that." Ginny moved closer and went to take his hand in hers, but he flinched away automatically.

"Let me see." Her voice was soft, but it wasn't a request. He relaxed. Ginny turned his hands palm-down in hers to see.

"It looks like you've hit something hard," she said curiously, "but I can't see how."

"Maybe you punched the wall in your sleep," Ron suggested, his eyes on the wall next to Harry's bed. Harry and Ginny looked around: there were flecks of red on the green paint. Harry nodded wearily.

"Probably."

They sat in awkward silence for a moment. Then Hermione stood up.

"Ron, come on." They left. Ginny was desperate for something she could say; Harry was sitting almost completely still, and she could see that he was emotionally exhausted. But he needed to talk…she made the decision.

"Tell me?"

Harry looked at her and nodded. He made as if to speak, but stopped, frowning.

"I don't know where to start." He sounded thoughtful, and Ginny gave a little giggle. He looked at her in confusion.

"What?"

"Never mind." She pulled herself together. _Now is not the time to think like that. No matter how cute he is…_she blinked and shook the thoughts from her head. He was still looking at her, eyebrows raised in tired scepticism, but she shook her head. He began to explain, how he had had a headache yesterday evening and had been fighting for the release of sleep – when the headache had suddenly stopped. He must have fallen asleep then, feeling peaceful and unusually relaxed, but when he opened his eyes he knew he was no longer at Grimmauld Place. He could feel the pressure of Voldemort's will squeezing in from all directions as he was forced to watch first his Uncle's, then cousin and Aunt's deaths through the eyes of their killer, before Voldemort moved to other houses, other families. He fought constantly to wake up, but by the time he did it was almost nine o'clock; Voldemort had been replaying the images over and over, trapping Harry in his mind. As he told her this, she reached across and put her arm over his shoulder. He turned to her.

"I kept trying to wake up and tell someone, but…" he trailed off, rubbing his scar out of habit. There was a quiet knock on the door.

"Come in," called Ginny. Hermione and Ron appeared in the doorway and came in, shutting the door behind them. Hermione was carrying a small vial of familiar purple liquid. _Dreamless sleep potion, _Ginny realised. _Well done, Hermione. _She knew that her mother kept a small supply in the bottom of the kitchen cupboard since Ginny had suffered from violent nightmares after her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets. How glad she had been to find out that Harry wasn't going to be staying at the Burrow that summer.

Hermione came to sit next to Harry and passed him the vial.

"Dreamless sleep," she said. He sighed. "Thanks, Hermione." He glanced almost apologetically at Ginny. "I'm going to try and catch up some sleep." She smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek, ignoring Ron rolling his eyes.

"See you later."

It was lunchtime when Harry woke up to Ron searching through his drawers for something. He saw Harry getting up and asked, "A bit better?" Harry nodded, his stomach rumbling. Ron grinned.

"Mum thought you'd be hungry when you woke up – she's doing sandwiches for everyone in the kitchen. Coming?"

"Yeah, just a minute." Harry pulled on a shirt and jeans instead of his pyjamas, and they went downstairs.

After lunch, which despite being delicious still seemed difficult to eat, Harry and Ron joined Hermione in the library. Her sandwich was sitting untouched next to a pile of books and parchment.

"Are you going to eat that?" Ron asked hopefully. Hermione glanced at him in irritation and took a bite out of it. Ron and Harry sat down next to her, and she looked pointedly at the bookshelves.

"Right." Harry and Ron got up and started browsing through the shelves again, often rejoining her at the table to leaf through a particularly promising book. Harry found a huge tome entitled 'Revenge and Avengement' and, more to break up the monotony than anything else, sat down to read.

He was aware that Hermione was watching him carefully out of the corner of her eye. She and everyone else had been watching him in the same way since he woke up, and he could tell why with dull familiarity. It was the same as the looks he'd gotten after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, after the battle at the department of mysteries, after Dumbledore's death on the astronomy tower – and now after the deaths of his last living relatives. It was pity; pity and wariness, as though he might do something, suddenly, at any moment. Harry smiled grimly to himself. Do what? Burst into tears? Explode? Slit his wrists? He didn't do anything. He _hadn't _done anything – yet. Harry shifted his weight and turned a dry, crackling page in the book he was supposed to be reading. His eyes slid slowly along the lines of ancient print, not taking anything in, feeling Hermione's eyes on the back of his neck.

In actuality he felt numb. Save for the short but blissfully dreamless sleep that had given him a few hours of rest, the images of the Dursley's deaths had flickered constantly through his mind – and the deaths of many others. His aunt, uncle and cousin had not been the only ones who had died, they were merely the first. The faces of the innocent people screamed at him in his mind. He had spent the entire afternoon trying to forget – the sky outside was already beginning to darken – but he could not. So it was with sickening clarity that he saw the horrific attack replayed over and over in his head, heard the tearing screams and the laughter of the Death Eaters, felt his face – no, _Voldemort's _face – twist into a malicious smile as the green light filled the air. And he could still hear the echo of Voldemort's words, quietly spoken in parseltongue only for Harry's ears; '_Happy Birthday, Potter…' _and as he fought to escape, '_Stay awhile, boy, and see what you have caused…you left them to die, Potter…you might think you are perfect, powerful, that you can protect those around you, but you cannot…you cannot save them all."_

So he had retreated into numbness and apathy, avoiding above all any mention of the events that repeated endlessly in his mind, like a film that only he could see. He knew that he could not stay silent for ever, but perhaps if he left it a little longer it would be easier…just a little longer…

They continued in near-silence for another half an hour, before Harry slid a final book back into place and sat down, discouraged.

"We're going about this the wrong way." Hermione looked up from the book she was reading. The musty table was piled high with even mustier books. They as yet _still_ hadn't found 'Destruction of Destruction', so had began to look up defensive spells of all kinds.

"I don't see what else we can do, until we find -" But she was interrupted by Ginny, who had just walked in, quickly shutting the door behind her and collapsing theatrically on a chair next to Harry.

"What?" he asked. She grinned.

"I was just on my way downstairs when I heard Charlie say something about the Order, so I stopped to listen. And you'll never guess…" she paused dramatically. Harry glanced at Hermione and Ron.

"Fred and George are selling to the Order!" She waited expectantly for a response, but only Ron spoke what Hermione and Harry were thinking.

"I don't get it."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "If Fred and George are selling to the Order, then…" suddenly, Harry understood, "They must have something good," he finished. Ginny nodded.

"From the way Charlie and Tonks were talking, it sounds like the first they heard about it was at last night's meeting. Apparently the Order received a very professional letter from Fred and George asking whether they would be interested in –" she stifled a giggle "– a display of items." Ron snorted in laughter and Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"_Honestly, _Ron. But if they have something they want the Order to see, why not just give it to Bill or Charlie?"

"They want to be taken seriously," Ron voiced. "They don't want people to treat them as just someone's little brothers." Harry glanced at him, surprised at his tone of voice but understanding. Ginny shrugged.

"They've been invited to join a meeting in a couple of week's time. We'll find out then, I suppose." She changed the subject. "Anyway, how are you doing? Did you find it yet?" Hermione shook her head.

"No luck yet. I just don't know what else we can look for."

"What about the spell Voldemort used to bring himself back?" Harry asked, bringing the idea that he had been turning over in his mind to the conversation. Hermione frowned.

"Didn't he say that he invented it?" Harry thought back.

"No," he remembered, "he said it was an old piece of dark magic, though."

"Not exactly helpful. Unless…" Hermione bit her lip. "It must've been some kind of…yes…" She put down the book she was holding and went back to the shelves. Ron looked at Harry and shrugged. A minute later, Hermione came back with two particularly old books on dark magic – the library had quite an interesting section on it. She dropped the books down on the table with a thump, causing dust to fly everywhere and Harry, Ron and Ginny to cough, waving it away. Hermione opened the first book.

"I saw this earlier; it's about the basics of Dark Magic…" she skimmed the contents page and flicked through the crumbling pages (more dust wafted everywhere) to the appropriate place, and began to read.

"For any spell of dark origins to take permanent and strong effect, it must be supplemented by two bases, or strong points, of previously performed dark magic or negative energies." She closed the book again, and took out the other. "This one was next to it, but I hadn't looked through it yet." Harry couldn't see the title of the book – it had been away worn by time – but it was black and heavy, and Hermione squinted as she read the tiny print of the contents.

"If one sinks to the depths of less than a spirit, there are few measures that can be taken…" She sunk into silence, her finger following the mass of text, before turning it around and pointing out a section to Harry, which he recognised immediately.

"_Bone of the father, unknowingly given…" _

He continued reading. It was word-for word the spell Voldemort had used to return. The text surrounding it pointed out that its potency depended entirely on the strength of the various ingredients, and of the strength of what it called the spell's 'anchor points'. He repeated this to Ron and Ginny. Ron frowned, and then shook his head, looking at Hermione expectantly. She sighed and began to explain.

"The first book says that, for a piece of dark magic to be long lasting, it needs to be near two or more places where dark magic has been performed before – preferably between them." She took the second book off Harry and continued. "This one tells us about the spell that Voldemort used to bring himself back. It says that the 'anchor points' – that's the places where dark magic has been performed before – have to be very strong, and very personal to the person performing the spell."

"So…" Ron finished, the light dawning on his face, "that means that two of the Horcruxes must be near the place that the spell was performed."

"Exactly." Hermione looked pleased. Harry took the book back from her to take another look at the passage, but as he did he felt something shift under his fingers, and the corner of something slim slipped out from inside the book's dust cover. He tugged at it, and it came loose. It was a small, black, leather bound book, and as he turned it over and saw the title etched on the cover, his heart beat faster and he smiled.

"I found it," he said. The title of the book read 'Destruction of Destruction'.

Dinner that night was wonderful, but somewhat subdued. It would have been, as Mrs Weasley explained when she took Harry aside, much more celebratory, but "we didn't want to be so tactless, so it's been toned down a bit, dear, if that's alright." However, Bill and Fleur were there to happily announce that they had found an old cottage in some northern village, by the sea, called _Weatherbreak._ Fleur was ecstatic about it – "Ze most _beautiful_ view!" – and Bill seemed pretty happy about the decision. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were taken by surprise when Fleur turned to them and said, "But of course, you will probably 'ear enough of zis from Gabrielle. She starts at 'ogwarts zis September."

Ginny looked puzzled, mirroring the faces of everyone else.

"But won't she be going to Beauxbatons?" Fleur shrugged and made a face reminiscent of Ginny. Harry noticed that even Hermione was beginning to warm to her now. She explained that Gabrielle had _inseested _to their parents that if her sister was going to live in England where the danger was, then she would to. They had said no, that she was too young, that she didn't know anyone there, that it was too dangerous – but after having locked herself in her room for several days, she had managed to convince them. However, they had made her promise to write once a week, and to be very careful. Fleur seemed worried about it herself, but said that "Ze attacks are spreading across France now; and Beauxbatons ees not nearly as well protected as 'ogwarts."

The rest of the evening passed slowly. Harry still felt numb, but a dull ache of sorrow was beginning to grow inside his chest. He may not have liked the Dursleys, he might've even hated them some of the time, but…they were family. Blood relatives. The only ones he had had.

So he was almost glad for the distraction when Mrs Weasley brought out a small, brightly wrapped present – and the others followed suit. From Ron he got a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans; from Ginny, a case for his glasses that was supposed to clean them automatically; from Hermione, a book on defensive spells – although when he went to open it she nudged him sharply and he took the hint. When he later got a chance to look at it, he realised that the dust cover was from another book. The actual contents were much darker, and the first page gave the true title: "Darkness In Defence – When Light Is Not Enough." He was surprised, but merely nodded at her in thanks. The brightly wrapped little box from Mr and Mrs Weasley turned out to be a watch much like Ron had gotten for his seventeenth – it was red and gold, with tiny ruby hands with gold stars on the ends. He thanked them profusely, but was quick to take advantage of the chance to withdraw to his and Ron's room. He and Ron went to bed early, and although Ron's snores could probably have been heard on the other side of the country, Harry lay awake for most of the night, gazing at the ceiling.

The next day and those after it were awkward. They had read through 'Destruction of Destruction', and discovered the passage that Dumbledore must have been referring to:

"_And of the Horcruxe, the moste evill of magikal devices, onlie one spelle may be deemed effective, this being the words "Finio Inanis", spoken so with force and resolve – only this will destroy the spirit within."_ Despite this, and despite having researched the location of Little Hangleton and planned their exit from Grimmauld Place carefully, no one seemed willing to say what had to be said: no one wanted to be the one to suggest a leaving date. So as the tension rose slowly, they spent their days looking over defensive spells in the Black Family Library, and duelling against each other in one of the upper drawing rooms that had long ago been cleared of furniture. Ginny's birthday came and went; she was delighted with her scarf, and to the Weasley brothers' great amusement turned Harry bright red by kissing him on the cheek in thanks.

Three days before the beginning of the new school term, Lupin returned to Grimmauld Place grey and tired, to announce that there had been attacks and reported sightings of the Dark Mark as far as Germany and Bulgaria.

"He's spreading out – their numbers are growing," he said wearily. "He probably doesn't have the kind of power there that he does in England, but he knows enough to frighten people into believing it." Fenrir Greyback had been leading the attacks in Bulgaria, and one incident in particular had sparked waves of horror and fear throughout Europe, an attack on a well known Bulgarian wizarding family; the parents had been bitten on the night of the full moon and locked in a room with their three children. In their transformed state, the parents had killed two and bitten the third.

Harry had gone very quiet during the announcement, but when they had a private moment he turned to the other three, a determined light in his eyes.

"We leave tonight."

Ok! Wow, that's the longest chapter I've ever written. Sorry for the delay. seven and eight will be up asap.

As you might not know, I answer every review you write, even if they're repeated by accident! So pleasepleaseplease review, lol.

See you in a week or so!

Hazel.


	7. The House on the Hill

All for All

Summary:

In the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all.

Chapter Seven – The House on the Hill

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is definitely not mine. Anything you don't may possibly be original.

"Success is not the result of spontaneous combustion. You have to set yourself on fire." - Reggie Leach

As the hands on the small clock reached half-past twelve, a pair of bright green eyes snapped open in the darkness. Harry pushed the blankets back and got out of bed, fully clothed. He stepped softly across the room to Ron and shook him awake, his hand ready to jump over his best friend's mouth if he made too much noise by accident. But Ron just scrunched up his face in tiredness as he awoke and silently pushed himself out of bed, glancing at the clock. He was also fully dressed. The two boys bent down and took their broomsticks and rucksacks out from under their respective beds, and, as Harry opened the window, Ron went to the door and looked out into the hallway. Hermione and Ginny were half-way down the corridor, treading carefully on the old floor boards to make as little noise as possible. Five minutes later, they were ready to go.

The house was silent as Ginny hugged each of them goodbye. When she got to Harry, she didn't let go immediately but held him close for a moment, whispering "Good luck!" before stepping back. The trio were silhouetted against the dim light coming through the window, but Ginny could still see the expressions of grim determination on each of their faces. Ron raised his hand on a mock salute which Ginny jokingly returned. The three of them turned, Ron and Harry with their broomsticks and Hermione with Ginny's, and Hermione cast disillusionment charms before they climbed one by one out of the window and flew away.

Ginny watched the almost invisible figures disappear into the night sky for a few moments before tip-toeing back to her room, wondering how she was going to explain this to her mother in the morning.

Ginny woke up early the next morning, unable to stay asleep. She waited patiently until she heard her mother clattering around the kitchen before coming downstairs. She was surprised to see when she entered the underground kitchen that her father had not yet left for work and was having a very serious-sounding conversation with Bill and Charlie. They looked around when Ginny walked in.

"Morning," she said sleepily, moving over to the cupboard for a glass and some orange juice.

"Morning Ginny." Bill sounded uncharacteristically uncomfortable, and Ginny looked up from pouring her juice.

"What's going on?" she asked, but he avoided her eyes. Charlie and her father glanced at each other, and Bill ran a hand through his hair.

"It's really nothing for you to worry about…"

Ginny raised her eyebrows and Bill visibly gave in.

"The outer wards on the house were breached last night – from the inside," he explained. "It was only for a couple of seconds, but it would've been enough for someone to leave."

"Oh," she breathed, suddenly realising what must have happened. Her father looked at her.

"Do you know anything about this, Ginny?" he asked. She shrugged, thinking carefully.

"What time last night?"

"About a quarter to one," said Charlie slowly, "why?" Ginny didn't look up, but busied herself making toast.

"I wouldn't worry about it, then," she said quietly, "it was probably just Harry, Ron and Hermione. That's about the time they left." All movement in the kitchen ceased. Ginny knew that everyone was looking at her, but she resolutely ignored them until her father spoke again.

"What do you mean, they left?" Ginny sighed.

"Exactly what I said." She turned around in her seat. Fred and George, who had been eating porridge at the table were staring at her, their eyes wide.

"Come on, you don't mean you didn't guess?" She looked at their shocked faces and raised her eyebrows. "Harry has things to do. And you know Ron and Hermione would never let him go alone." The words stuck slightly in her throat, but she pushed them out all the same. Ron and Hermione had not let him go alone – but she had.

It was drizzling in Greater Hangleton, the sun just beginning to push its light through the clouds to shine dimly on the three cloaked figures making their way down the wide country lane. They approached the village slowly and wearily, and looked around. One of the larger, timber-framed buildings had a sign on the door: _The Forest Inn – Rooms Available_. They made their way towards it. It wasn't long before the three of them were dropping their bags on the beds of a small upstairs room. Ron looked around sceptically.

"Well. This is going to be fun."

The rest of the day passed slowly in Grimmauld Place. The twins were due to meet officially with the Order in the evening, and they spent the entire day at the shop, only coming through the floo to eat lunch in near silence before returning almost immediately. Ginny spent most of her time in the library, researching the four founders of Hogwarts until, at around seven o'clock, Mrs Weasley sent her to her room and various members of the Order began to arrive. In the kitchen, Bill sat with his father and Charlie, one eye on the twins and another on the door.

There were two slim black cases on the table, each about a hand-span across. Fred and George were leaning against the table, their eyes flicking from the Order members trickling in to the cases on the table, and then to each other. Although it wasn't immediately obvious, Bill knew his brothers well enough to tell that they were very nervous. Slowly the room was filled and he shut the door, waving his wand in a brief imitation of an imperturbable charm. This looked to be an interesting meeting indeed, and he owed his sister a favour. As the door closed, there was a slight scuffling noise on the stairs and on the other side of the door, Ginny shifted position to get a better look through the keyhole. She would have used extendable ears, but knew that if she was caught with them it wouldn't just be her she was getting in trouble. Back in the kitchen, the talking settled down, and the air was full of sceptical anticipation. Ginny smiled to herself. This had better be good.

It was dark again by the time Harry, Ron and Hermione left the room. They had spent the day eating the food they had brought with them, and planning how best to approach the problem. Their first place to look would be the Riddle House, but they had decided to wait until nightfall before making their way there.

They walked cautiously up the gravel drive, surrounded on all sides by overgrown hedges and unkempt weeds. The house itself was tall, grey and forbidding, with half-boarded up windows and ivy growing wildly across its walls. The front door was locked so Hermione took out her wand.

"_Alohomora!_" she whispered, and Ron pushed the creaking door so that it swung open. As they entered, Harry half-expected the door to slam shut behind them, but it did not.

"Friends, welcome. And may I also welcome Messrs Fred and George Weasley, owners and founders of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, who come before us with a proposal." McGonagall nodded at Fred and George and sat down. The twins looked at each other, and Fred began to speak.

"Thank you. We know that most of you are going to be pretty unconvinced that the owners of a joke shop would have anything of interest." There were several titters from the Order members. George picked up where his brother had left off.

"However…a year or so ago we began to think seriously about what we could do to help in the war. We're not fighters; we're rubbish duellists except against each other –" there were a few smiles "– but when it comes to making things, we know what we're doing."

"We started thinking about what would be useful, and how we could change methods we already use to make something of value."

Bill could tell that they had spent some time rehearsing this speech, but it didn't make it any less effective.

"We came up with two main ideas." Fred gestured to the two cases. "We'd like to point out that neither of these have been patented –"

" – and nor are there any written instructions on how to make them," finished George.

"So that means that the only way to find out how to make them…?" asked Charlie, leaning forwards.

"Is through us," Fred confirmed.

George slid the first case gently across to the centre of the table and pressed his thumb to the lid, which opened smoothly. Inside, lying gently on some kind of black foam, was a bracelet. It gave a whole new meaning to the word shining; it seemed to glow slightly with an inward light, and each of its links appeared to be different. Appreciative murmurs swept the room, and Bill swore softly under his breath.

"Is that…"

"Fovio Argentum." Fred nodded. He and George both looked very serious. Bill was still staring at the bracelet as he said, "But that's not…don't you have to…"

Fred and George looked at each other.

"Register it, yeah," said Fred, and George continued, "but that's only if you want the recognition."

"So to keep this nice and confidential –"

"- we didn't." Bill surveyed his twin brothers curiously, aware that he was possibly the only other person in the room who understood this fully.

"You won't get the patent for it though – and isn't there a fair bit of prize money?" he asked. George nodded.

"We don't need it. The shop's doing well enough on its own," he said.

"And anyway, this is much more important," Fred added. Bill was impressed. His younger brothers had changed a lot from when they had begun their business. A voice spoke up from across the table.

"Fovio Argentum – isn't that a precious metal? I though it wasn't made anymore…" Bill glanced across to see the Order's newest recruit looking at him and the twins questioningly. Cariss French was a friend of Tonks' who worked on the fringes of the Department of Mysteries, as a courier – delivering confidential messages between the various Unspeakables by hand. Fred nodded, and explained.

"It's one of the materials made only in the wizarding world, because of its properties."

Bill dragged his eyes away from the bracelet to help.

"Think of all the magical materials on a scale of one to twenty. The Philosopher's Stone is about twenty, and one would be…I don't know, a charmed brick, something anyone could make. That stuff," he gestured to the bracelet, "is about a thirteen." Charlie whistled softly under his breath and the room broke into whispers. Tonks looked at the twins.

"So how did you get it?"

"We made it."

The inside of the house was covered in inch-thick dust and cobwebs that could have come, Harry thought, from a bad-quality horror film. It took them ten minutes to explore the lower levels, but upon finding nothing they moved up to the second floor.

They walked along and around extensive lengths of dusty corridor for what felt like hours, but in reality was a mere twenty minutes, before arriving back at the central stairwell. Harry's frustration was growing. He had been so sure that they would find a Horcrux here; but the whole house seemed to be empty. He looked up at the other two.

"Well?" he whispered. "What do you want to do?"

Hermione bit her lip and shrugged.

"If it's not here…" she trailed off. If the Horcrux wasn't here, they would have to start again. Harry looked at Ron. His best friend was gazing at the corridors around them, frowning.

"This isn't right."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. In response, Ron knelt down and began to draw something in the dust on the floor. Harry and Hermione leant over to see a rough plan of the building. Ron pointed to where they were.

"This is us. And this," he drew a line that curved around and through the corridors and rooms, "is where we've walked. But if you look –"

"There's a missing room!" It seemed obvious; looking at the plan, they had missed a room on the east side of the house.

"But how did we miss it? We walked all around that bit!" Hermione said. Harry shrugged and re-adjusted the strap of his bag.

"Come on, then."

They retraced their steps until they reached the stretch of wall separating them from the 'missing' room. Ron made another plan in the dust, and they walked around three sides of the room, but could find no door.

"Great," Harry said, "now what do we do?"

"Give me a minute."

Hermione paced up and down, muttering to herself. Finally she took out her wand, and with it drew a strange symbol – Harry supposed it was some kind of rune – on the wall in purple light. The rune sank into the wall, which seemed to shimmer before their eyes and transform into a door. Hermione smiled. Ron and Harry just stared at her.

"How did you –"

"In the letter Dumbledore left for me, he recommended several titles. I've been studying them since I found them," Hermione explained distractedly. She was now running the tip of her wand along the sides of the door, little blue sparks tracing the outlines of more runes. Eventually she nodded to herself and put her hand on the handle, looking at Ron and Harry, who were still staring her in astonishment. She grinned.

"It's amazing what you can learn from a book."

"How long does it take you to make one of those?" Tonks asked curiously.

"Each one takes about a month to make; but it's possible to make more than one at a time," said George.

"So, depending on circumstances, we could have fifteen ready for use by November," Fred said. Charlie nodded in understanding, but asked,

"What circumstances?"

"Well," George began, "Both of us are normally in the shop if it's busy, so it's a matter of getting the work done when we're not going to be interrupted or asked why we're not out front."

"And then the process itself isn't perfect. Everything has to be done very precisely – and if it's not then we have to start all over again," Fred finished.

"So," said a grey-haired witch at the back of the room, "what do they actually do?" The twins glanced at each other, and George started to explain.

"They do a few things, but their main purpose is to identify."

"These bracelets," continued Fred, lifting one out of the case to reveal another just underneath it, "once activated, cannot be taken from their owner and still work. Take them off of their original owner's wrist and they stop working completely. Even if they are put back on again, it doesn't matter – they're one use only."

"Put two activated bracelets next to each other and they'll light up blue," George said, "but only if both are active. If either one has been tampered with in any way, they won't light up at all."

"So it's proof that a person is who they say they are," Tonks realised.

"Yes. Also, the tag on this one," Fred indicated a small disc that dangled from the bracelet, "is blank. But put it on and it will change to represent your patronus..."

"…which means that even if someone else managed to make it work on them, the shape of the patronus would change." George completed. Cariss French spoke up again.

"But couldn't the person who'd stolen it just use polyjuice?" Bill answered for the twins.

"No. That's what's so interesting about Fovio Argentum; it can be spelled to recognise a person by their aura, rather than their biology." There were a few more questions before the talk died down.

"No more questions?" Fred checked. There were none. "Good." Someone from the back called,

"What's in the other box?"

The trio stepped carefully into the darkened room. It was an almost perfect square, and in the middle of one wall was a large window that had been roughly boarded up. There were several wooden chairs in one corner, and the whole room smelt old and dead. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and the three of them jumped around; this time the door had shut behind them, with a thud that shook the room. Hermione raised her wand and muttered a spell, causing the rune on the door to relight and another to appear on the floor in the centre of the room. Harry walked towards it and kneeled down, Ron and Hermione behind him. He reached warily forward, glad to see that his hand was still mercifully steady, and cautiously tugged up the centremost floorboard. It peeled slowly upwards.

"Brilliant,Harry," Ron whispered from behind him. The three of them leaned carefully in to see what was revealed: a grimy case, like that for holding a wand, only shorter and wider. But that wasn't what really caught their attention. What did was the deathly pale, unmoving hand that the box was resting in. Harry glanced around at his two friends; Ron was white and Hermione's eyes were wide.

"_Inferi," _he mouthed, and they nodded. Ron kept his mouth tightly closed in a way that suggested he might be sick if he opened it, and Harry understood his feelings. The hand was joined to an arm which reached back under the floor where they knelt, and now Harry's eyes were adjusting to the darkness beneath the floorboards he was fairly certain he could see other things under there: dim curves in the shadows that bore a resemblance to limbs and once, as he moved his head to see better, a chink of light from the badly-boarded-up window reflecting in a pair of dead yet open eyes.

Fred opened the second case, within which seemed to be –

"Jelly beans?" someone asked, and quiet laughter rippled across the room. George grinned, and Fred picked out a red one, popping it in his mouth. He stood back from the table and George took out his wand, pointing it at his twin.

"_Stupefy_." A beam of strong red light shot from George's wand and hit Fred squarely in the chest – but nothing happened. Fred stood there, unaffected by the spell, and grinning at all the stunned faces. George turned back to the rest of the table.

"Yep. Jelly beans."

"Fire spells at the ready, then?" Harry suggested grimly, and felt Ron and Hermione shift behind him until they were to his left and right, their wands pointing directly at the hole in the floor.

Harry gritted his teeth, and reached his left hand down between the floorboards until it was hovering above the box.

"After three," he whispered. Hermione and Ron nodded.

"One…" Harry could feel the sweat prickling across his palm. "…two…" – he flexed his fingers, ready to grab and get away as quickly as possible – "…three…NOW!" Harry snatched the box out and leapt back as Ron and Hermione cast their fire spells. The floorboards creaked violently and then jerked up as pale hands and skull-like faces clawed their way out of the space beneath the boards.

"RUN!" Harry shouted. He turned to the door, but there were too many Inferi blocking their path.

"Harry, the window!" Harry spun around to see Ron and Hermione already at the ledge. He charged across the room, leaping over the clutching white hands, throwing fire spells at the cold bodies reaching for him. Ron was tugging at the boards on the window; Harry started to help him but they wouldn't move.

"Move back!" Hermione called. Harry and Ron jumped backwards as Hermione pointed her wand at the window and a stream of red light punched a hole through the wood and glass.

"GO!" Harry shouted. Hermione climbed out and called back to them,

"There's a tree out here, I should be able to –" But Ron and Harry were too busy fending off the Inferi to continue listening.

"Harry, move!" Ron hollered. Harry paused for a split second, not wanting to leave Ron there alone, but Ron shoved him towards the window and he gave in. He clambered up onto the ledge and looked out. There was a tree there, a huge, ancient yew, and Hermione was balanced carefully on one of the bigger branches.

"Hermione, catch!" She looked around as he threw the Horcrux across the gap, before jumping himself. He caught hold of the nearest branch with both hands and swung himself around until he was next to Hermione. He looked back at the window. Ron was scrambling out onto the window ledge, his wand still sending flames back into the room.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted. He looked around.

Ron pushed himself onto the ledge. He heard Hermione call his name, and couldn't help it – he looked down. The ground seemed further away than it should technically have been; as did the tree branch.

"Come on Ron! Just jump!"

Ron closed his eyes and launched himself out of the window.

"RON!"

Charlie recovered from his shock enough to ask,

"So what do the other colours do?" George grinned, and Fred came back to the table.

"What, not impressed, oh brother mine?" he said, trying not to laugh. George took pity on them.

"Each of the colours has a different effect. The red ones shield the eater from minor to moderate spells, hexes and jinxes." Fred joined in and the twins began to alternate their explanations.

"The orange ones will fix all minor injuries and give you a short-term energy burst – hopefully enough to get yourself out of danger if possible."

"The purple is a blood replenishing potion in a compact, jelly form. Takes longer to go off, and has the same effect as an average spoonful of the potion."

"The black will send you into a semi-conscious state; you'll seem dead, with no detectable pulse or breath, but you'll still be able to observe what's going on and talk or move if you make the effort."

"The yellow ones dissolve on the tongue and will revive anyone stunned or unconscious, or anyone who has problems waking from the effects of the black ones," George finished.

"I think I can tell you that we're impressed," said Mrs Weasley weakly, and several people nodded. "How long have you two been working on this?" Fred shrugged.

"Since we left school. The bracelets, anyway. The sweets weren't too hard; it's the same principle as prank sweets, just with different properties."

"You'll have to excuse me; I'm not saying that you're not generous, but what do you get in return?" Kingsley asked. George turned to him.

"We get to prove they work; and if we're manufacturing bigger numbers of them, we'll need help making it secure to store them."

"And we get to help. We've always wanted to be able to do something…and now we have hopefully got the ability to make a difference." Kingsley nodded, leaning back in his chair. As with the bracelets, there were a few more questions before Professor McGonagall stood once more.

"I think that you have certainly given us much to discuss," she said, nodding politely to the twins. "Thank you very much for coming in; we will contact you with a decision within the next week or two." The twins nodded their thanks as the members of the Order applauded appreciatively.

Ron saw Harry and Hermione's panicked faces get quickly further away and was about to yell when what felt like a hook caught the back of his ankle and all the movement jerked to a stop.

"Ron! Ron, are you ok?" Ron opened his eyes slowly to see that yes, he was upside-down. He moved his head back to look down and almost passed out when he saw that the unkempt lawn was only a few inches away from his face. He closed his eyes again and groaned. Suddenly there were hands on his back, helping him hit the ground slowly as the spell was countered. He groaned again.

"Ron? Ron, say something!"

"Ron, are you ok?" He nodded slowly, and pushed himself upright, feeling a burst of pain in his right knee. He swore and grabbed it. Hermione had both her hands over her mouth, and Harry was white.

"Is it broken?" Hermione asked nervously.

"I don't think so," said Ron. He looked at them. "Who caught me?"

"I did," said Harry.

"Thanks."

"Anytime." The three of them sat there, unmoving for a moment of two. Harry ran a hand through his hair absent-mindedly, oblivious to the mess it was already in.

"How am I going to explain this to mum?" Ron asked, gingerly stretching his leg and wincing.

"Just tell her you fell out of a tree," suggested Hermione.

"He didn't fall out of the tree. He _missed _the tree," Harry said, and then they started to laugh. It couldn't have been further from amusing, Harry knew this, but all the tension that had been building inside him was released as they lay back in the grass and laughed until their sides ached. Finally, they pulled themselves together, and helped Ron upright.

It took them several minutes to get into the little enclosed field that Hermione had spotted earlier that day, Ron supported under each arm by Harry and Hermione. When they reached it, Hermione pulled the box out of her pocket and the three of them sat down on the soft grass to see. The dust that had covered hit had been brushed off, and they could clearly see some sort of emblem on the lid. Hermione rubbed it with her sleeve and gasped. It was a beautifully ornate 'R', on which perched a raven.

"Ravenclaw's mark," Hermione whispered. Ron and Harry looked at her, and she cleared her throat.

"Sorry. I keep forgetting that we don't have to whisper out here," she said. She lifted the lid. Inside, on a cushion of pure blue velvet, lay a delicate bronze feather – no, not a feather, a _quill_. The trio just looked at it for a moment. Harry broke the silence.

"Come on."

They stood up and raised their wands, angling them so that the tips were just touching. 'Destruction of Destruction' had recommended a combination of power as the best way to cast the destructive spell without having it rebound.

"Ready?" asked Harry.

"Yes."

"Yeah."

Harry shifted his grip on his wand and nodded. The trio spoke out together.

"_Finio Inanis!_" A beam of pure white fire blasted out from their joined wand tips, focused, and then hit the quill with such force Harry was sure it would crumple – but it didn't. The light was absorbed into the quill, and for a moment, nothing happened. Harry just had time to exchange a puzzled look with Ron before there was an explosion of dazzling white light and all three of them were thrown backwards several metres. After a minute or two of coloured spots racing across his vision, Harry risked opening his eyes again and lifted his head of the ground. Ron and Hermione were in similar situations, but Hermione was already sitting up. She pulled herself up as Harry did, and they each took one of Ron's arms and helped him to his feet. Hermione went over to the quill; it lay on the ground quite innocently, as though it had done nothing at all, but when she ran her wand over it she looked up.

"It's empty," she said. Harry grinned and felt the thrill of achievement grow inside him as Hermione carefully replaced the lid onto the box.

"We need to be more careful," she said. "That spell took a lot of power, and most of that went straight back out again. That's why we were thrown backwards."

"That's twice today," grumbled Ron. Harry couldn't help it; he snorted with laughter and Hermione giggled. Ron looked at them.

"What's so funny?"

"Nice one," Bill complimented as people began to leave. "Even if they don't accept, they'll be talking about that one for ages." The twins, who had been quietly packing the cases into a small bag, looked around.

"Seriously?" Fred asked, glancing at George. Bill smiled at his younger brothers.

"Seriously."

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN.

Oh sweet merlin. Now you know why it took me so long! That, and I've been panicking about coursework. Now I have all of it handed in, I should have more time. Hopefully. However, although chapter eight already has over three thousand words written (I wrote it whenever I got stuck with seven), chapter nine and ten need re-planning. I will spend every spare moment trying to get this sorted, but I have to apologise in advance for any delays.

Thank you for being the wonderfully patient people you are! Chapter eight is on its way!

Hazel

P.S: all reviews will be answered.


	8. Familiar Beginnings

heAll for All

Summary:

In the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all.

Chapter Eight – Familiar Beginnings

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is definitely not mine. Anything you don't may possibly be original.

"To repeat what others have said, requires education; to challenge it, requires brains." - Mary Pettibone Poole

Ginny sat alone in the compartment, the door shut and locked. She had cast the spell on the door's glass pane the way Hermione had spent days teaching her – to anyone walking past it would appear that this compartment was full.

She checked her watch – 6 o'clock. The train would pull in at Hogwarts in under half an hour, and it was time for Ron, Harry and Hermione to arrive. Ginny got up, went to the window and opened it, leaning out to see the length of the scarlet train. Every window was lit. _Perfect. _She pulled herself back in and shut the window again. Then she turned out the light, turned it on, turned it off and turned it on again, signalling to Harry which compartment she was in. Now she just had to wait.

One by one, three dark shapes swooped in to level with the train. The first waved a wand, vanishing the window, and Ginny pulled her coat over her shoulders as the wind cut through the compartment and the figures slid in. As soon as she had gotten off of her broomstick, Hermione replaced the window pane, and warmth started to seep slowly back in. She lifted her hood.

"Have you got that bag I asked you to bring?" she asked wearily, sitting down next to Harry and Ron. Ginny smiled and handed it to her.

"Nice to see you too," she joked, before becoming more serious. "Well? Did you get the…" she left the question hanging. Harry nodded and yawned sleepily. Ginny looked between the three of them, cautiously. "Are you alright?"

Hermione and Harry nodded but Ron groaned, gesturing for the bag. Hermione passed it to him and he took out a small towel, drying his skin as he tugged up the leg of his jeans. Ginny winced when she saw that his knee was bruised and bloody.

"What happened?" she asked, looking at the three of them. Harry raised a pale face out of his arms to explain, but Ron got there first.

"I fell out of a tree."

At this, Hermione stifled a semi-hysterical giggle, and Harry grinned at Ginny.

"What he means is he –" he began but stopped, laughing, when Ron threw the bag at him. They spent the next twenty minutes talking and laughing, although Ginny could see that the smiles of the other three had a slightly forced quality, especially as they explained what had happened. But soon the train was pulling into Hogsmeade station and they could hear students up and down the train gathering their luggage.

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting down at the familiar house tables. The Great Hall was as splendid as ever as Harry looked around.

There was an old man with a long grey beard sitting at the high table, talking to Professor Flitwick. He seemed strangely familiar, and as he turned back, Harry suddenly realized why.

"It's the barman from the Hog's Head!" someone hissed down the table, and immediately every student had a whispered opinion to add.

"What's a _barman _doing here?"

"If you look at the table, he's got to be the new professor."

"Yeah, but of what? Alcohol?"

"I'm up for it." Dean grinned. "Firewhisky anyone?"

"He looks familiar, and I've never been to the Hog's Head…"

"Yeah, right."

"I haven't!"

A sudden hush fell on the table as the doors swung open and the first years walked in, led by Hagrid. As they passed, Ron muttered to Harry, "He's got to be teaching defence, I reckon. All our defence teachers are weird." Harry smiled briefly, his attention quickly returning to the old man. When he had first seen him at the Hog's Head he had seemed familiar, and even here there was something about him…

By now the sorting hat had finished its song and the soon-to-be-sorted students were stood in a nervous huddle before it. Hagrid unfurled a scroll of parchment and began to read aloud.

"Anderson, Jade!" A girl with shoulder-length, mousy-brown hair who was clenching and unclenching her fists in nervousness stepped up and placed the sorting hat gingerly on her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Relieved, the girl went to sit at the applauding Hufflepuff table as more names were called. As "Clarke, Emma" ("RAVENCLAW!") was being sorted, Hermione lent over and muttered to Harry and Ron.

"Doesn't she look a bit familiar to you?"

"Day, Sarah!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The girl was pale but smiling as she sat down next to Jade Anderson with the cheering Hufflepuffs. Harry turned back to ask Hermione who she meant, but then Ginny nudged him sharply in the ribs and whispered,

"Look, there's Gabrielle!"

"Delacour, Gabrielle!" Ginny showed Harry her crossed fingers.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The pretty little blonde girl hopped of the stool and quickly sat down next to Ginny, who had moved along to make room for her. She was grinning widely as the table applauded. Harry looked at Hermione.

"Who?"

"The woman next to McGonagall." Harry frowned, and looked up at the high table as "Gadsden, Andrew" was sorted into Slytherin. Hermione was right - there was a slender woman wearing toffee-coloured robes sitting between Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout. She had long brown hair down to her waist and her face looked oddly familiar. But then she put her head to one side as the next student sat down ("Hamilton, Grace!" - "GRYFFINDOR!" – Harry clapped half-heartedly) and the candlelight caught her face a different way, making Harry sure he didn't know her.

"Mather, Aisha!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Morris, Sophie!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Myth, Callisto!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Rust, Ewan!" A tall boy with an expression as though he had just trodden on something unpleasant sat down on the stool.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Smiling in a superior sort of way, he joined the Slytherin table. Someone from Gryffindor booed him quietly as he sat down. Looking around the hall, Harry could see that the Slytherin table was easily the fullest – and even they had a few people missing. Gryffindor table was next, and then Ravenclaw. But Hufflepuff looked as though half the students were missing, and Harry wondered what had made those who were returning do so.

"Stokes, Sophie!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" Harry clapped with the rest of his table as a nervous girl with dark brown hair joined them. He continued looking around at the students; he could see that everyone who had been in the DA the year before last had returned, and the majority of the older students. That was good; at least those who were there would know how to defend themselves, if it came to it. Hopefully.

"Trenear, Rebecca!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Harry shook his head to clear the dark thoughts from it. The last girl to be sorted had short blonde hair that matched that of one of the second year Ravenclaw boys, and Harry wondered if they were related. Hagrid called out her name.

"Ward, Ellen!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

As she sat down next to the older boy, Harry saw them link hands under the table. But then Professor McGonagall rose, and all the noise in the hall faded quickly away. She surveyed the students as she spoke.

"Welcome, first years. And welcome back to all of our more familiar students. As most of you will know, I have been appointed as the new Headmistress, and as such, I will no longer be teaching transfiguration."

No one commented at this; it had been expected. Professor McGonagall continued.

"Therefore, this year we have three staff announcements. Firstly, I would like you to welcome Professor Tonks to the position of transfiguration Professor." Harry's mouth dropped open. He glanced at Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who were all mirroring his expression as they clapped. The woman in question nodded her head to the applause politely. She looked nothing like Tonks – but then, Harry realised with a sudden feeling of stupidity, Tonks was a metamorphmagus; she wouldn't have to. But if she was here under a different face, why had she kept the same name? Professor McGonagall was speaking again.

"Secondly, the position of Head of Gryffindor house, in respect of our previous Headmaster's wishes, goes to Professor Rubeus Hagrid." Harry, caught by surprise, nevertheless applauded as loudly as the red-faced Hagrid grinned broadly from his seat at the High Table. Professor McGonagall waited for the applause to die down before continuing.

"All of you, other than our new first years, will remember our previous Headmaster: Professor Albus Dumbledore. And for some of you, adapting to life here at Hogwarts without him will be strange. But yet we will continue to strive for the excellent standards that make us one of the most exceptional schools in the magical community. And with this in mind, may I welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor – Professor Aberforth Dumbledore."

The entire hall went utterly silent. If Harry had thought he had been shocked at seeing Tonks, it was nothing on how he felt now. The other professors on the table began to clap and, slowly, the rest of the school joined in. Harry couldn't believe it – and by the expressions on the faces of everyone else around him, they couldn't either. The old man who had acknowledged the claps was the right age to be a cousin, or a brother, but Professor Dumbledore didn't have a brother…or did he? Harry felt suddenly uncomfortable as he realised that he had never known anything about the Headmaster's personal life, despite the Professor knowing almost every detail of Harry's. Professor Dumbledore had never spoken of a family, and Harry had assumed that he was as alone as Harry was. Harry searched his memory. In all their talks, had the Headmaster ever mentioned…yes! Now that he thought about it, Harry could remember his voice, comforting Hagrid the day after Rita Skeeter had revealed his being a half-giant.

"_My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practising inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery…" _ Harry almost snorted with laughter. He didn't sound like teaching material. But Ron was looking at him strangely as the food appeared on the table, so he mouthed "later" to him and began to help himself to Yorkshire puddings.

The feast finished more quickly than Harry would have thought possible, and before long Professor McGonagall was rising once more. She waited until they were all quiet, and then spoke.

"And after that excellent feast, I have several more announcements. Firstly, for those who do not know, day visits to the village of Hogsmeade are normally open to those in third year or above. However, this year, there will be no such trips." The new third years were sharing angry glances, but most of the older students nodded in acceptance. The staff or the governors had obviously decided the danger was too great.

"Also, I am very sorry to have to announce that, this year, there will be no Quidditch tournament." This time, the entire student body burst into complaint. Most people looked appalled, and Harry was with them. Quidditch was the one thing that kept the school together – however competitive it might be, Quidditch was something to think about that wasn't schoolwork or the latest tragedy. How could McGonagall even _consider_ –

"The board of governors has decided that it is only under these conditions that the school could be reopened. I know you will all be as horrified as I am by this decision. The tournament keeps our houses together, and our morale high." Professor McGonagall looked as though she was holding back considerable anger. "However, we must not let this disappointment trouble us, or dampen our spirits. This school, as I mentioned before, is the greatest place for magical education in the world – and we will not let that reputation fall because of recent events." She took a breath, calmer now. "May I also remind the new sixth years that, due to their being postponed last summer, their OWL's will begin the day after tomorrow. I trust you have all been using the summer to revise." Harry glanced up the table and saw Ginny's friends looking grim, but Ginny whispered to him,

"It's alright, she told us in our letters. We get the results almost immediately, and then start NEWT classes." He nodded, feeling a jolt of guilt that he had never considered asking Ginny about her exams.

"Think you know what you're doing?" he asked. Ginny gave a half-nod, half-shrug, and turned back to look at the High Table.

"Seventh year students who have not already passed their apparation tests should sign up on the house notice-boards. That is all. Good night."

They left the hall quickly, and soon they were trudging up the steps and along the familiar corridors towards the Gryffindor tower. Ron nudged him, speaking in an undertone.

"What were you grinning at before the feast?" he asked. Hermione heard and whispered something to Ginny, and the four of them fell behind the other students to talk more privately. Harry quickly explained what he had remembered, and Ginny giggled.

"Inappropriate charms on a goat? A bit worrying, that one," she said. Ron snorted.

"That's what I thought," said Harry. Hermione looked confused.

"But if he's Dumbledore's brother, then why would he work in the Hog's Head?" Harry turned to her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that magical abilities normally run in the blood! He could be doing anything, he could really help Dumbledore in the war, but he's running a pub with a bit of a – well – _dodgy_ reputation in Hogsmeade. Why?" she asked. Ron grinned.

"Maybe that's where he keeps the goats."

Harry and Ginny burst out laughing.

"Ron!" said Hermione. "That isn't funny." But she was struggling not to laugh herself.

"If you think about it," Ginny said as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, "it makes sense. I mean, lots of people use the Hog's Head as a place to meet and talk about stuff. We used it for the DA the year before last."

"And that's where Professor Trelawney made the prophecy about me and Voldemort," Harry realised, lowering his voice.

"And I bet loads of other stuff happens there – and he'd be in just the right place to know, wouldn't he!" Ron agreed. They stepped through the portrait hole and let it swing shut behind them.

"Well, we'll see."

Hermione wished the boys good night as she and Ginny walked away from them towards the girl's dormitories and Harry and Ron trudged up the stairs to the boy's. A short time later, Harry was lying in his familiar four-poster, his eyes still open. Maybe it was because of the journey back from Little Hangleton, which had left him with a sore back, or maybe it was the little angry prickles that kept flaring up in his scar, but he couldn't seem to relax. He tried to think about something else; he wondered again why Tonks would be teaching at Hogwarts. But his thoughts kept drifting away from Tonks and onto the one thing he had been refusing to think about since the night on the astronomy tower – Snape. An image of the scowling, greasy-haired potions master appeared in Harry's mind.

"_Blocked again, and again, and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!" _ A surge of anger, fresh and harsh, burst through Harry and he rolled over onto his side, clenching his fists. He, Harry, had been talking about Snape for years and no-one had listened – no, that wasn't true, Harry realised. Professor Dumbledore had listened. But he had always dismissed Harry's concerns, explaining away some things and keeping his reasons to himself others, but always trusting, always knowing that Harry would always have no choice but to hope his Professor was right. But he had been wrong.

Harry pushed these thoughts away. He, Ron and Hermione knew what they had to do. That was all that mattered now.

He could hear Ron and Neville's snores in the otherwise silent dormitory, and had a sudden, unconnected burst of longing. If only he could be as oblivious to the world as they were now.

The next morning, Harry was sitting at the breakfast table listening to Ron and Dean argue about the unfairness of cancelling the Quidditch tournament, when he heard someone call his name.

"Potter!" Harry turned. Professor McGonagall was walking towards him. "Could I have a word outside?" He nodded, stood, and walked with her to the Entrance Hall where she stopped and turned to him. "I wanted to know what you would think about reinstating Dumbledore's Army," she said frankly. Harry stared at her for a moment before realising what she was talking about.

"I think it would be a great morale booster, not to mention the advantages of having students who won't panic so much if there is an attack," she continued. Harry frowned, thinking. It was true that all of the students who had been in the DA were still at Hogwarts – except, of course, the students who had been in their sixth or seventh years when the DA was formed. Harry wasn't sure if they'd all want to start it up again, though, and said as much.

"But I'll ask." Professor McGonagall nodded curtly, satisfied, and then her face softened slightly.

"How are you?" Harry gave her a brief, grim smile and she seemed to understand. "Very well, Mr Potter. Perhaps you should return to the table – I believe Professor Hagrid should be giving out time-tables." Harry nodded and returned to see that Ron and Dean were looking up and down the hall for him.

"Where were you, mate?" Ron asked. Harry lowered his voice and explained. When he had finished, Dean shook his head.

"I think she's right Harry, it's a good idea, but I don't know if many people will want to – I do," he said hastily, seeing Harry's expression, "but it's like putting yourself up as a target, isn't it, if there is an attack?" Harry was saved answering him as Hagrid reached them and handed them their time-tables.

"Well done, Hagrid!" Ron said, grinning. Hagrid went slightly red behind his beard.

"Ta. Can barely believe it meself." He moved on, and Harry looked at his time-table for today's lessons: Transfiguration, double Defence Against the Dark Arts, a free period and double Potions. _Could be worse…_Harry thought to himself.

"Come on," he said to Ron. "We'll pass the message around, about the DA – we can get together tonight, before all the sixth years do their OWL's."

"Eight o'clock in the Room of Requirement?" he asked, and Harry nodded as they made their way to the transfiguration classroom. They were glad to see that Hermione had already sat down and saved them seats near the front. When they sat down either side of her, she pointed at the blackboard. On it were the words, 'Professor Andromeda Tonks'.

"Andromeda?" Ron asked. "Definitely not the Tonks we know, then."

"They're probably related, though," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I mean, it can't be a very common name, can it?" Harry just shrugged as the Professor herself entered the room carrying a stack of books, which she placed on the desk. She stood at the front of the room without speaking, and waited for them to quiet before speaking.

"Welcome to transfiguration, seventh-years. My name, as you can see, is Professor Andromeda Tonks," she said with a small smile, gesturing to the board.

"But that doesn't tell you much about me. So, just for your information, I have worked as an under-mage for the International Union of Spellcrafters for eight years, specialising in transfiguration. I am also," her hair changed to bright green before returning to normal, "a metamorphmagus." Many students in the class exchanged interested or excited looks as she continued. "Every child in this school has been told to address me as 'Professor Tonks'. However, you are not children anymore. You are all of-age, intelligent young witches and wizards, and deserve to be treated as such." She smiled again, and tapped her wand sharply on the board. The words 'Professor Andromeda Tonks' disappeared, and were replaced by 'Andy/Tonks'. Professor Tonks turned back to the class.

"I'm not going to turn all Dolores Umbridge on you and say I want to be your friend," – several people giggled – "but I am willing to treat you with the same respect as I expect you to show me. You're in for a tough year; I want to make it as fun and easy for you as possible. So," she finished with a grin, "could you all get out a piece of parchment and a quill, and I'll quiz you on what you already know, to see what you're struggling with." The class groaned good-naturedly as they reached into their bags. They spent the rest of the lesson completing and marking the quiz, which briefly covered almost everything they had ever learnt, from first year to sixth. They left the class talking and joking.

As Harry and Ron explained to Hermione what Professor McGonagall had said, they walked up the staircase to get to their next class: Defence Against the Dark Arts. When they entered, most of the class was already there. They took seats and waited. Harry looked around. Unlike several of its previous incarnations, the classroom was relatively plain. The Professor's desk was uncluttered and, like Professor Tonks, the name 'Professor Aberforth Dumbledore' was written in a strangely jagged script on the board. However, Professor Dumbledore didn't appear to be present, and Harry spotted a few people looking at their watches. He checked his own. Fifteen minutes had gone since the start of the lesson. Most people were sitting around, chatting happily or finishing homework from other classes. The door to the corridor was open, and a few people near the door were glancing out every so often, checking that there were not any teachers patrolling to catch them effectively skiving a lesson. He turned back to Ron and Hermione.

"Where d'you think –"

But he was interrupted by Dean Thomas, who called loudly across the classroom,

"Now this is the kind of NEWT I could do – a test in doing nothing!" Everyone laughed, until suddenly a voice was heard; and it didn't belong to a student.

"No doubt you could, Thomas."

Several people screamed. Ron jumped backwards, causing his chair to hit the desk behind him with a bang. Standing in front of the blackboard, as though he had always been there, was their new defence professor. The whole room went utterly silent as he surveyed them, taking in every face. Then, without moving, he spoke again.

"Brown – close the door. Everyone else, in your places." Lavender quickly obeyed as the rest of the class sat down without speaking. After another moment of watching them, Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands once.

"Right. Now, can anyone tell me how long I've been here?" Everyone looked around at each other; no one seemed to know. Then, cautiously, Seamus Finnegan raised his hand. Professor Dumbledore looked at him.

"Finnegan?"

"I think you've been here since the bell rang, sir." Professor Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"And why do you think that?"

"Just our luck, sir?" Seamus said. The whole class held its breath – this was the moment that would show them exactly what kind of a teacher they would have for the next year.

There was a pause, and then the man's face lit up with a grin that reminded Harry of Fred and George watching the effects of a new prank. Professor Dumbledore nodded his head at Seamus in amusement.

"A smart alec, but correct. Can anyone truthfully say that they knew I was there?" Most of the class shook their heads.

"Right. Now, you'll probably want to know what you'll be doing, so I can start by telling you that by Christmas I'll have a hard time catching any of you lot out with something like that." He looked around. "I have received from Professors Lupin, Moody, and Umbridge a basic list of all you have studied previously. You've covered magical creatures and dangerous curses, along with quickly learning how to defend yourself from politics." There was a ripple of laughter, and Professor Dumbledore gave a wry grin. "This year, you're going to combine that knowledge, and learn how to use it day-to-day."

"Including the politics, sir?" called Dean. There was another ripple of laughter, and the Professor nodded.

"That especially. Now, we'll start with the basic methods of camouflage – can anyone give me an example?"

After class, Harry, Ron and Hermione set out to spread the time and place of the meeting to all those concerned, and by the end of potions he was confidant that everyone would be there.

At about a quarter to eight they made their way to the Room of Requirement.

The first to arrive was Lavender Brown, looking more nervous than usual on her own. She eyed Hermione cautiously as she came and sat next to them. Next were Colin and Dennis Creevey, then the Patil twins. Slowly, the room filled up. Finally, at eight o'clock, Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones were the last to join the chattering crowd, holding hands shyly.

"Right," Harry began, clearing his throat, "welcome back." He looked around the room. Including himself, Ron and Hermione, there were twenty-two people; everyone still young enough to be at Hogwarts had come back, and Gabrielle Delacour was smiling as she sat between Lavender Brown and Dennis Creevey.

"We've lost a few people, but Ginny," he nodded at her, "has talked to Fred and George, and they're going to try and organise everyone who left – they'll be having meetings to keep in touch every other week, and we might be able to meet up in the holidays." Several people nodded, and Ernie MacMillan raised a hand. Harry nodded to him.

"Me and Hannah were wondering," he said, "not that there's any problem with just having a smaller group, but should we let more people in now?" He turned to the group at large. "I mean, it's not like anyone's denying that He's back anymore, and I know a few people who would be more than ready to join." Terry Boot spoke up from the back of the room.

"Maybe, but we've got a decent Defence Professor now; this is more for extra practice than anything else, and the others can do that anytime they like." There was a hubbub of discussion at this while everyone gave their opinions, before Gabrielle spoke up, loud enough to be heard by everyone.

"I know I wasn't here the last time," she said, her French accent noticeably fainter than her sister's, "but wasn't everyone picked because they could be trusted to do the right thing even if it wasn't what everyone else was doing?" The students seemed to agree, and Hermione finally made her opinion heard.

"I think Gabrielle is right, but we should vote on it. Who thinks we should let more people into the group?" Several people raised their hands; Ernie, Harry noticed, seemed to have changed his mind. Hermione counted them quickly, and then continued, "And who thinks we shouldn't?" There were many more hands raised for this, but Hermione counted them even so. "We're not letting anyone in, then."

"Hang on, Hermione – what about Gabrielle?" Everyone turned and looked at Ginny, who had spoken.

"Well, we're saying we won't let anyone new in, but Gabrielle's already here – no offence, Gabrielle," she apologised. Gabrielle shook her head in acceptance as there was a pause for thought.

"It's hardly fair to turf her out; and anyway, she's here now. And didn't you say she's related to you, Ginny?" This was from Lavender Brown, who had been quiet so far. There were several nods, and Harry spoke up.

"Does anyone have a problem with Gabrielle joining us?" No one spoke, and a few shook their heads. "Right, that's ok then." Harry was relieved that no one had raised a complaint; he wasn't sure what else could be said in Gabrielle's defence.

"Shall we get started, then?"

They had a productive meeting, going over most of the basic things they had done two years before, and the Creevey brothers seemed to take great delight in coaching Gabrielle, the youngest, through 'Expelliarmus'.

They stopped after not long before curfew, and collapsed on the cushions on one side of the room. Lavender, to Harry's surprise, did not join in the gossiping, but sat on the edge of the group with Dean and Seamus, keeping herself to herself. He wondered if this had anything to do with her and Ron's break up last year – could she still be sore about it?

The conversation moved onto this year's prefects.

"Yeah, who's head boy and girl this year?" asked Anthony Goldstein. There was a sort of generalised shrug; no one seemed to know. Then Neville raised his hand sheepishly and Lavender gave a small wave. Harry was surprised, but tried not to let it show.

"Cool," he said. "Well done Neville! And Lavender," he added hastily, realising that he had inadvertently missed her out. Neville was looking quite pleased with himself as he was congratulated, but Lavender looked a little embarrassed.

"Well, it would have been Hermione," she said. "It should have been. I said so to Professor McGonagall. But she just said that you –" she spoke directly to Hermione "- were doing some extra-curricular studies this year and would have been too busy to be Head Girl as well. Harry stomped on Ron's foot as he opened his mouth to disagree, while Hermione nodded. _Someone must've told McGonagall about us three leaving in the summer. _It made sense – after all, she was a member of Order, she'd have heard about the 'breach of security'. The conversation continued, slowly turning to families.

"Hey, that's a point – Seamus, how comes your mum let you come back? Didn't she say she wouldn't let you?" Colin Creevey piped up. Harry started with realisation; he'd become so accustomed to seeing his dorm mates every year he had forgotten that Seamus had only been allowed to stay for Dumbledore's funeral after a furious shouting match with his mother in the entrance hall.

Seamus shrugged.

"I told her I was going whether she liked it or not, and when she said that I wasn't I walked out. I stayed 'round Dean's for a couple of days before she gave in." He spoke casually, but there was a quiet tension in the way he didn't look at anyone directly. Harry was glad when Neville changed the subject quickly.

It wasn't long before someone mentioned the time, and people left in twos and threes as if Umbridge was still hanging around. Harry was strangely tired, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Time passed quickly, in a flurry of meetings and increasing levels of homework. Harry never thought he would be glad of not having Quidditch practice, but to be truthful he didn't know how he would have managed the workload with regular weekly practises as well.

On the evening of the thirty-first of October Ron met Harry and Hermione in the library, and once she had finished 'tidying up' her Charms essay they headed down to the Halloween feast.

On their way across the Entrance Hall, Professor Tonks called out to him.

"Potter, could you go up to the Headmistress's office – there's someone there who wants to talk with you." Harry nodded and left Ron and Hermione to go without him, somewhat gloomily, wondering if it would be Scrimgeour trying to persuade him to become the ministry's pet again. As he passed her, Professor Tonks muttered, "The password's 'Bumblebee'." He didn't notice that behind him, Ginny smiled softly and began to explain something to Ron and Hermione. When he reached the gargoyle that guarded the door to the Headmistress's office, he gave the password and entered. Looking around, he realised with a small pang of loss that it had changed; the delicate silver instruments no longer puffed and whirred in their places but had been replaced by Professor McGonagall's belongings. On the wall, in its golden frame, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore slept quietly. Harry wondered if it had awoken at any point since he had last seen it.

"Hello, Harry." Harry jumped. Remus Lupin was standing to one side of the Headmistress's desk. Harry had been so distracted by the changes in the office he hadn't noticed him.

"Hello Professor." Lupin smiled.

"Remus, please. We've known each other long enough." Harry nodded, unsure whether he could get used to this, before asking,

"Profess-Remus, why are you here?"

"Ginny said you had been planning to visit Godric's Hollow. I knew you hadn't been before, and I wondered – I go there myself on Halloween, to visit…" he trailed off questioningly. Harry was surprised. He had told Ginny about his plans, but had supposed she hadn't thought any more of it. He had, of course, but…he realised Remus was still waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I'd like to go – I mean, if I can," he said. Remus nodded.

"I already checked with Professor McGonagall. She says it's ok, as long as you're back before curfew." He gestured towards the fireplace. "By floo?" he asked. Harry nodded again, trying to block out all the thoughts that were buzzing around his head. Taking a fistful of Floo powder, he followed Remus into the flames, wondering what he would find on the other side.

Erm…I'm beginning to realise that each chapter is longer than the one before it…

Seriously though, I hope you all like this. I know it's been a while. But I have two more weeks of exams, and then free time galore, so hopefully…it's unlikely chapters nine and ten will be up before Deathly Hallows comes out, because there is a major problem with them, but in their absence I will write all the chapters after them furiously (according to my chapter plan I know what happens in each one – in theory, anyway) so that as soon as I get nine and ten up I can update more regularly. Sound ok?

Sigh. Hope you liked it – all reviews are read, appreciated and normally answered within a couple of days, mostly to say thank you.

Hazel.


	9. The Home in the Hollow

All for All

All for All

Summary:

In the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry will either gain everything – or lose everything. This is life – to gain all, one must first risk all.

Chapter Nine – The Home in the Hollow

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is definitely not mine. Anything you don't may possibly be original.

"Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional." – M. Kathleen Casey

"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent." – Isaac Asimov

Harry stepped out of the emerald flames into a small, dusty room with no windows. Remus gestured towards the door.

"After you." Harry walked through the door and followed a narrow corridor until he reached another door, which led out into an alleyway.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"It's a little pub that caters for the witches and wizards here – or it used to. Times were there were more of us here than the Muggles, but these days…" Remus trailed off as they reached the end of the alleyway and stepped out into the light of the setting sun.

They were walking along a row of pleasant, detached houses, all with a slightly different style, none exactly the same. There was an old church spire rising behind the rooftops. Harry could feel the weight of his school bag cutting into his shoulder, and wished he had thought to leave it the Headmistress's office. He had been in the library working on an essay and hadn't had the chance to leave it in the common room. He could feel the books inside it bouncing painfully off of his leg every time he took a step and shifted the bag around so that they were cushioned by his Invisibility Cloak.

They turned a corner into another street, and there was an immediate difference. Most of the houses along here were for sale, or bore the 'sold' sign but were still empty. A few looked as though they had remained untouched for years. Harry looked at Remus questioningly.

"People don't like to stay here long. They say it makes for a bad atmosphere, living near that." He gestured up the street to where the houses were set back further from the road. Harry couldn't see quite what he was pointing at, but he could guess. As they got nearer, he knew he must be right. There, between the houses with the oldest 'for sale' signs, was what must have once been a pretty little house and garden. Now one whole side of it was wrecked and blackened, blown apart, Harry supposed, by the back-firing killing curse.

They passed through the rickety wooden gate into the front garden. Harry let his legs fold beneath him until he was sitting cross-legged on the icy ground, and stared up at the house which could have been his home. He barely noticed Remus joining him on the ground. In his mind's eye he saw Lily and James Potter as they were in his photograph album, standing in the doorway of their new house, waving at the camera, Lily already bearing the noticeable bump that would become their son several months later.

The time passed, second by second, minute by minute. After a while, Harry tore his eyes away from the broken home, and stood up. Remus rose too and led the way out of the garden, back down the road and along another alleyway. The church spire Harry had seen in the distance drew closer. Soon, they reached the church itself, and the graveyard behind it.

In the far left corner of the graveyard were two white marble tombstones which read:

_James Potter, born 27__th__ March 1960, died 31__st__ October 1981_

_Lily Potter, born 30__th__ January 1960, died 31__st__ October 1981_

"_To sleep, perchance to dream."_

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Your mother used to love Shakespeare," Remus said quietly. "She spent months trying to convince James before he gave in and read _Hamlet_. This was her favourite quote."

Harry smiled, and reread the words, trying to fix them in his mind so that he would not have to leave them behind when he returned to Hogwarts. As with the house, he did not take his eyes away for a long time, and as the darkness grew deeper Harry felt rather than saw the tears hit the cold ground. Eventually, he nodded, not wanting to speak, and Remus walked with him back the way they had came.

They arrived back at Hogwarts just before curfew. Harry said a hurried goodbye and thank you to Remus before returning to the common room. It was busy, full of talking, laughing students, but Harry bypassed them all, scanning every face, looking for Ginny. He couldn't see her anywhere. Maybe she had already gone to bed?

He turned around, planning to ask one of her dorm mates, and saw Ron and Hermione move towards him, looking serious.

"Harry, have you seen Ginny?" Ron asked. Harry looked from one to the other.

"No," he said, frowning. "I've been with Remus. Why?"

Ron's forehead creased slightly as he registered the use of their old professor's first name, but Hermione just ignored it and bit her lip.

"So she didn't go off with you, then?" she said. Harry shook his head.

"Why?" he repeated. "Wasn't she at the feast with you two?" As he spoke, his stomach growled, and he realised that he hadn't eaten.

"She said she had to go and get something from the tower, and then she didn't come back," Hermione said.

Ron looked at his watch.

"It's a quarter past nine," he said. "The feast started at seven."

"So she's been missing for a couple of hours, maximum," Hermione continued. "We've asked all her dorm mates, and all of her friends – no one's seen her since before the feast. I think we should look on the map for her." She paused, her expression awkward. "Do you think I'm over-reacting?"

"Maybe," said Harry, already reaching into his bag for the Marauder's Map and moving towards a less public corner of the common room. "But it's worth being careful – just in case." Privately, Harry had been itching for an excuse to check the map since he had first been unable to find her.

Harry activated the map, and the three of them peered at it, searching for Ginny's name in the seemingly endless corridors and classrooms.

After a minute Harry spotted her little dot on the fourth floor, in what Hermione confirmed was the girl's bathroom.

"Maybe she's not feeling very well," said Hermione, "and she –" Ron interrupted her. He pointed silently to three dots on the map labelled _Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle _and _Draco Malfoy. _They were moving quickly down the stairs from the fourth floor. Harry felt his stomach clench. _Not Ginny…_

"They're heading for the tunnel to Honeydukes," said Harry. He took a deep breath. "Right. We can't do this on our own…" Harry turned to look at the rest of the common room.

"Dumbledore's Army!"

Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati and the Creevey brothers came over as the rest of the house stared curiously. Harry explained the situation under his breath.

"Ron, Dean, Seamus and Lavender, you go down to the third floor, see if you can't catch them up. But if they go into the tunnel, don't follow – there could be more of them."

Ron nodded, and turned to go, but Harry caught his arm.

"Take the Map with you." Ron took it, and the four of them left.

"Colin, Neville – you two go and wake up Professor McGonagall." They left.

"Hermione, Parvati and Dennis, come with me and we'll find Ginny." Harry led the way out of the portrait hole and down the stairs. He could hear the footsteps of the others echoing down the corridors, and immediately wished he'd kept the Map himself.

They walked for a few minutes, using several of the lesser-known short-cuts, before they came to the fourth-floor corridor. Harry stopped just outside the bathroom door.

"After you," he said. Hermione and Parvati entered, and after a pause – Hermione gasped – Harry and Dennis followed. When he saw her, Harry's stomach turned over. Ginny was lying unconscious on the floor in the corner, badly bruised, her arm at an unnatural angle beside her. Harry was by her side so quickly he didn't even register getting there. He put his hand gently on her neck, checking her pulse. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn't wake. He barely registered Hermione kneeling next to him and touching his shoulder.

"Ginny? Ginny, can you hear me?" he whispered to her. She didn't respond.

"Harry, we need to get Madam Pomfrey," Hermione spoke quietly. She sounded scared and when Harry looked around at her, he saw that her face was white. "I'll go with Parvati," she continued, "will you and Dennis be alright here on your own?" Harry nodded, and heard her leave quickly, muttering instructions to Dennis on her way out, but he didn't take his eyes away from Ginny. She was normally so vibrant, so full of life … Harry's anger began to boil when he thought of what must have happened. _I'll find you, Malfoy, _he thought.

Harry didn't know how long he sat there with her before the sound of footsteps returned.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" someone called. Harry looked around in time to see a misty cat leap through the doorway before it faded and Professor McGonagall came in, followed by Ron, Hermione and Madam Pomfrey. Ron's face turned as white as the Patronus when he saw Ginny, and he joined Harry at her side, but was soon ushered out of the way of Madam Pomfrey. Hermione, Harry noticed, slipped her hand into Ron's, who seemed temporarily distracted from everything else as his eyes widened in surprise. Harry looked down at Ginny, almost expecting her to open her eyes and wink mischievously to show that she had noticed, too. But she lay, almost unmoving, completely unaware. Harry slipped his hand into hers.

It wasn't until Ginny had been in the Hospital Wing for some time and Professor McGonagall demanded that Harry get some sleep before dawn that he left her side.

Ginny felt the bright light piercing her eyes before she had even properly awoken. She screwed up her face against the intrusion, but as she reached to pull the blanket over her head her arm flared with a sudden pain and she gasped. She felt someone gently manoeuvring her back under the covers, and opened her eyes. She smiled. A certain boy whose green eyes were worn with tiredness and whose tousled black hair was even scruffier than normal was trying to gently move her aching arm back under the covers without hurting her. He was so sleepy that he hadn't even noticed that she was awake. Ginny cleared her throat.

"Good morning, Mr Potter," was what she had meant to say, but it came out as a coughing fit. Harry handed her the glass of water on the side table. He waited silently as she drank, but the concern in his eyes told her exactly what he was going to say next. She got there first.

"Harry, you look shattered. You should get some sleep –"

But her sentence died at his expression.

"Are you alright, Gin?" She nodded, smiling at him softly and fighting a wince at the pain as he relaxed back into the chair.

"What happened?"

"Could you tell us what happened please?"

Ginny took a deep breath in. Why did she have to repeat this a hundred or so times? She'd already told Harry, and then Ron and Hermione when they had visited, and then her dorm-mates when Madam Pomfrey had finally let them in the Hospital Wing… and now Professor McGonagall and some members of the Order. Harry, sitting beside her, squeezed her hand lightly. Ginny breathed out.

"Just before the feast, I realised that I'd left something in the tower. I told Ron and Hermione, and went to get it. I was on my way back when I heard a noise from down the corridor. It sounded like someone was crying. I thought they might need some help, so I went around to see who it was. And then – Malfoy was there, with Crabbe and Goyle…" Harry was staring at the floor as she spoke, his eyes almost unblinking. Ginny was startled by the amount of anger she could see in them. She had seen him angry before, several times in her fourth and fifth years. But not absolutely livid, not like this, not so furious he could barely move. A polite cough jerked back to reality, and she reminded herself that there were other people in the room, people waiting to hear what she had to say. She cleared her throat again, nervously.

"Sorry," she said, trying to bring her mind back to the three Slytherins and away from those furious green eyes.

"Not to worry, Miss Weasley. In your own time."

Ginny's words echoed in Harry's head as he walked through the almost completely deserted corridors. It was nearly nine o'clock. Ginny had, and Madam Pomfrey's insistence, rested in the hospital wing for most of the day before seeing Professor McGonagall in the evening. It being a Sunday, Harry had spent the entire day with her, only leaving her side briefly at lunch time.

As he reached the seventh floor corridor, he felt the anger reach its peak, boiling in his clenched fists and pooling bitterly in the pit of his stomach. In his mind's eye, he saw Crabbe and Goyle pushing Ginny against the wall while Malfoy taunted her. He saw Malfoy grab her arm as she tried to run, and twist it hard. He saw them hitting out, again and again, flesh against flesh until she collapsed to the floor. He pushed the images from his thoughts, but the anger still stormed within him, fighting for an excuse to hunt Malfoy down and tear him limb from limb. He reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and was about to give the password when the door opened from the inside and Hermione stepped through.

"Harry!" she said. "I just came out to look for you. The password's changed to _firebird_, I wasn't sure if you knew." Harry nodded.

"McGonagall said." He made his way into and across the common room and sat down next to Ron. Hermione followed him.

"How's Ginny?" Ron asked. Harry nodded, then shrugged.

"About the same. Madam Pomfrey's keeping her overnight again, but she'll be back in lessons tomorrow."

Ron nodded. After a moment, Hermione sat forwards in her chair, her expression eager and her voice so low that Ron and Harry had to lean forwards to hear what she was saying.

"I think we should go to Durmstrang."

Harry and Ron exchanged sceptical looks.

"Why?" asked Ron, and Harry knew he was thinking of Krum.

"Because of this," Hermione said, taking a book out of her bag and opening it on her lap.

"It talks about the castle, and apparently the Headmaster lives in an entirely separate wing, only connected to the others by a single narrow passageway."

"You think Voldemort hid a Horcrux in Durmstrang Castle?" Ron asked.

"No," realised Harry, "You think Karkaroff did, don't you?" Hermione nodded.

"Durmstrang, though? How are we supposed to get there? We don't even know exactly where it is!" Ron said. Hermione blushed.

"Well, I just got a letter from Viktor, and –" Ron scowled and slouched back in his chair. Hermione ignored him.

"- and he said that I'm welcome to visit him any time. I thought we could get him to help us." She looked uneasily at Harry. "I know we can't tell him much, but we could think of some excuse…"

Harry wasn't sure. He had got on well enough with the Durmstrang champion during the tournament, but he wasn't entirely sure how many questions would be asked, or how easily they could lie to him. Unless they took him into the entire thing? Harry dismissed the possibility as soon as it arrived. Dumbledore had asked him to tell no one but Ron and Hermione.

_But I told Ginny_…

That was different.

_Was it?_

Yes.

_Why?_

Because I lo-

"Harry?"

Harry shook the thoughts away, hoping the back of his neck hadn't gone red. Hermione and Ron were both looking at him.

"We'd have to have a good excuse," he said. Judging by Ron and Hermione's expressions, he had missed a portion of their conversation.

"Yeah. But if we have a good enough one, then we get a free tour of the castle and grounds, right?" said Ron. "Or d'you think he'll want to follow us around the whole time?" Harry looked at his best friend. A shadow of a scowl still remained on his face, but he had pushed it away to better focus on the situation. Harry wondered how Ron would cope if they did have to spend a large amount of time with Krum – and, looking at Hermione, resolved to try to keep them apart as much as possible. He didn't need another war breaking out just as they were on the way to ending this one.

Hello there!

Long time no see. I'm glad this is finally up, and I hope you all had a great holiday, Christmas or otherwise.

I decided not to describe what happened to Ginny in too much detail because I felt it was more frightening if left to your imaginations; however, there will be more details given in the next chapter.

I hope you like it – all reviews, as always, will be answered.

Hazel.


End file.
